


Landslide

by Vadianna



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Abuse, Armitage Hux is awful, Brendol Hux is awful, Fighting, Gaslighting, Light Voyeurism, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Robe!Hux - Freeform, petty revenge, the First Order is pretty awful okay, the robe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12113784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vadianna/pseuds/Vadianna
Summary: Armitage Hux, Brendol Hux, and Cardinal have been together since the death of the Empire, and the two boys have grown up alongside the First Order itself.  Brendol has guided the course of their lives personally, down very different paths, using very different techniques.What started as a Robe!Hux fic (and it comes eventually, I promise) wound up being a very long character study of Armitage Hux, with scenes from various times in his life.  Buckle up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux is called Armitage throughout for a good reason, I promise.
> 
> I'll put anything particularly egregious in the chapter notes - the story is split up by time period, and sections are skippable if something isn't your jam.
> 
> Written mostly in response to the _Phasma_ novel, with some material from _Aftermath_ and probably other novel sources. Cardinal's name changes over the years - his name on Jakku was Archex, he was assigned Trooper number CD-0922 when he joined the First Order, and was called Cardinal when he was promoted to Captain. I realized this wouldn't be clear in the story itself, especially since Hux often refuses to call him by the name he's the most proud of at the time.

**13 ABY…**

 

Armitage’s eyes strayed to the door as it opened to admit CD-0922. The tall, broad trooper in the standard-issue white armor was still wearing his helmet, and Armitage smirked, turning back to the datapads he had spread out on the desk.

“I remind you again to have a tech examine the protocol droid. It still isn’t allowing me entrance to the main living suite, even though I’ve got clear orders,” the Trooper said upon taking up his post, not bothering to wait for acknowledgement from Armitage.

Armitage had erased CD-0922’s clearance himself and had claimed ignorance of the issue. The droid couldn’t do anything to stop CD-0922 from entering the suite, but it was an annoying, chatty hindrance, and that was good enough. He ignored the Trooper's barbed comment, continuing as if he hadn't spoken.

“You understand the routine. I still have reason to believe my life is in danger aboard the _Absolution_. I will need your protection once again for my rest and sleep cycles.” Armitage didn’t bother to face CD-0922 as he delivered the order, as if he couldn’t be bothered with the effort it took to speak to the Trooper. He waited, gloved fingers poised over the large central screen in an imitation of absorption, hoping for some sort of reaction.

He was not disappointed.

“ _Sir._ ” Armitage could hear the sarcasm dripping from the required respectful address, even through CD-0922’s voice modulator. “I investigated this matter myself today, as it has been ongoing and-” he paused, the modulator cutting out before he continued. “a _pressing concern_ , something that is causing undue stress. It had also occurred to me that any conspiracy against your life might also involve other young trooper cadets aboard. After giving the matter my full personal attention, and bringing all my skills to bear, I found no evidence of a conspiracy.”

The comment about the children was a lie. The investigation was also very likely a fabrication. Armitage didn’t even need to see his face to know it. Still, he allowed himself a smile where CD-0922 couldn’t see it, then set his face and turned to address him.

“Of course not,” Armitage explained slowly, patiently, belying all the praise his father had given the Trooper for his problem-solving and quick thinking. “If the conspiracy were that easy to find, don’t you think I would have uncovered it myself by now?”

CD-0922 didn’t answer right away, staying still and at regulation attention in his position to the right of the doorway, his armor so well-polished that Armitage could make out his reflection in the breastplate. After a moment, the Trooper shifted his weight from one foot to the other before answering.

“I thought my own thorough and effective methods of investigating the crew and staff, who are more familiar with me than you, might help. I am confident in both my skills and relationship to the staff, crew, and students onboard the _Absolution_. I believe there is no one that could do a more thorough job. I am certain that your life is not in danger.”

Armitage scowled, and CD-0922 added a grudging “Sir.”

Armitage could hear the loathing through the helmet. He let the slip go, since he’d purposely kept CD-0922 awake for over 72 standard hours. He could be gracious enough to allow the Trooper his deteriorating mood.

He sighed dramatically and folded his arms in front of him, turning the chair to face CD-0922 fully. “If it were that easy, I would have found the conspiracy myself. I can interrogate and question just as well as you can. It’s part of my training. A rather thorough one, and an area I excel at.” Armitage stopped before he could make a cutting and very telling remark, one that would reveal his contempt at the perceived difference in their skill level, as told by his father. He turned back to the desk, all but dismissing the Trooper.

“I am not satisfied, and that’s all you need to know. You will be on duty here until I release you.”

To his credit, CD-0922 said nothing, and did not move over the course of the next several hours. Armitage reviewed materials for his classes, then turned the sound off on his datapads and watched the training sims that he, his father, and CD-0922 had implemented for the current quarter. He watched them again and again, and analyzed every possible early result compared to the historic data from the old sims. He reviewed the different results between the age groups, which his father had instructed him to pay special attention to. He saw nothing new.

He could feel his face heat with humiliation and sharp rage at the memory of discussing his ideas for the sims with his father and CD-0922. The emotions were overpowering, almost strong enough to taste, which was ridiculous. That conversation had been days ago, and he needed to move beyond it. He clenched his fists on either side of the large screen mounted into the surface of the desk and attempted to suppress his emotions, to get himself back under control, thankful that his back was to CD-0922.

He shook his hands out and took deep breaths, firmly dismissing the topic and switching his files over to the recent Officer Academy lectures. After a few moments of paging angrily through topics and taking nothing in, the word _Trooper_ jumped out at him and he stopped. It was an archived discussion about some new tech. Tech topics were presented so often as equipment changed and failed that Armitage read it with a sneer on his face, thinking that the information would already be outdated and useless, or at the very least something he'd seen as he'd watched the new sims.

As he read the article, his expression cleared and his thoughts slowed, rage and humiliation dissolving into satisfaction as he found a way to make himself feel better.

There would soon be cooling tech that would operate effectively in temperatures up to 37 degrees. Trooper armor had heating systems installed, since they often saw action on ice and tundra planets - the cost was balanced against the loss of life, which was fairly significant at average temperatures in those environments. But cooling tech hadn't been as necessary to develop, since planets with temps too high for Trooper operations tended to be uninhabited. The cooling tech now existed, but it hadn’t been implemented yet.  There would need to be significant improvements to other, more primary defense technology before money would be spent updating their manufacturing technology and retrofitting all the existing armor with something superfluous like this.

Armitage smiled, pulled the room’s climate controls up on one of his peripheral datapads, and dialed the temperature up to sweltering.

 

 

* * *

   
**13 ABY, four days earlier…**

 

”I have a suggestion,” he said loudly, cutting into the conversation between his father and CD-0922. They both straightened from where they were bent on the console and turned to stare at him. CD-0922’s armor was impeccable as always, reflecting back the cold industrial light of the ceiling. He was not wearing his helmet, as he almost never did in his father's presence when they were in private. So Armitage saw that the expression on his broad, stupid face mirrored his father’s, and both looked as if Armitage had grown an exceptionally ugly second head.

His father had gained more weight in the last three months. Their hard life had taken a toll on even his father during those early years, and he'd become lean and almost fit as everyone went hungry.  But Armitage remembered him in his Commandant's uniform from Arkanis, which he'd been forced to wear until they were able to fabricate uniforms again.  It had eventually hung off him as he'd lost his gut, his wide frame, and his round face. He'd looked good, younger and very respectable as they began cleaning up their image and making more propaganda to spread their cause, his father the face of the young cadet programs.

But Armitage was sure that he was more out of shape now than eight years ago, even though rations were still strict and not up to full nutritional demands for most of the First Order population. Still, his father looked just as good as ever in his uniform, perfectly pressed and presented, the picture of unquestioned authority. He still had his ubiquitous non-regulation mustache, which hid the small twitches and tells of his mouth, but only when he didn’t want to make himself known.  Currently, he did, and he let Armitage see his sneer.

These bimonthly sessions on the _Absolution_ had begun rather suddenly last year. His father pulled him out of the Officer’s Academy for a week as he reviewed the Trooper training program with CD-0922, the two of them pretending as if Armitage didn’t exist as he stood quietly off to the side and watched his father praise his favorite student.  Armitage's role in this had not been made clear to him.  Additionally, these meetings were a significant disruption - not just because they resulted in days worth of catch-up that made it difficult to stay at the top of his classes, but because he found his absence generated opportunity for many students and even a few instructors to undermine him.  He knew who to watch for, who would make an attempt the next time he left, and he had become quite accurate about predicting their methods.  They had yet to succeed at destroying his reputation or physically harming or killing him, but he always worried about the attack he wouldn't see coming.

Though Armitage always hoped to capture his father’s interest, the sneer was more or less the reaction he received anytime he spoke to his father. So he straightened his posture and tried to give his father a reason not to look at him like that.

“I have a suggestion,” he tried again, sharper this time, making it more of a command. He turned to fully address his father, ignoring the Trooper.

His father’s brow creased. “Well?”

“We aren’t running any basic survival sims right now. Why isn’t that a part of the curriculum? Won’t the soldiers be wasted once we begin more land-based offensives? If they run into difficulties and are cut off from the main group, they won’t know how to ration, how to use resources, or how to survive.”

They had just completed a rigorous series of these sims at the Officer’s Academy, and Armitage had received the top scores on each one, outdoing even the oldest students in the Academy (something that had surprised Armitage - most of them had been thin, starving children when they had been rescued by the Order, and Armitage had assumed they knew something about survival). His scores had been so exceptional that he had been complimented warmly by several of his instructors, and they had made adjustments based on his recommendations to raise the difficulty of the sims.

He had hoped his father might finally bring him into his confidence, or even acknowledge his presence after his recent achievements.  But of course his father hadn’t asked him about his classes, he never did. He would have heard about Armitage’s success with the survival sims, since it involved modifications to the carefully-regulated programs. He was simply refusing to address it.

His father’s face folded into disgust. Armitage kept his own expression carefully frozen, trying not to react to his father’s obviously telegraphed emotions and to mask his confusion.

His father turned and spoke to CD-0922. “Please explain to Armitage why he is wasting our time.”

CD-0922 was only five years older than Armitage, but was his father’s star Stormtrooper and always had been, ever since he’d been rescued from Jakku as a starving boy. He had a fantastic memory, and knew every trooper in the program by number, including their strengths and weaknesses, and always had suggestions about the most effective groups and training regimens for the individual cadets. The General had begun asking the Trooper for input into the classes and training programs, and had given the Trooper some control of the children’s program last year. CD-0922 was skilled, and he deserved his new responsibilities, but it didn’t make Armitage hate the Trooper's elevated position any less.

The Trooper glanced at Armitage’s father, his face displaying his confusion openly. But his expression cleared, and he turned to address Armitage in the same quiet, infuriating voice he used to correct children.

“Those are skills a Commanding Officer possesses. Troopers don’t need to know those things, they only need to take orders.”

Armitage’s father cleared his throat, and CD-0922 winced slightly and continued.

“Our tech has also improved immensely in the last year. Each helmet now includes a homing beacon, and there are enough emergency nutrients built into the breastplate to keep a soldier alive for five standard days.”

The tech had been implemented eight standard months ago, but was faulty, and so far had failed when tried in the field. He wondered if CD-0922 knew that it didn’t work. Probably not, since faulty tech was bad for Trooper morale. But his father certainly knew it, and had prompted CD-0922 to use that fact against him anyway.

Armitage locked eyes with his father, who was giving him a cold, disappointed stare and a more mild form of the condescending sneer that he only ever seemed to show Armitage. Armitage could feel his own mask slipping, his face growing red, but he stared right back, trying to imitate his father's cold disappointment, to communicate silently that he knew about the bad tech.

But he was getting upset, and knew better than to show weakness in front of his father. His flush would give enough away without him betraying any of the rest of it. Armitage had promised himself this trip would be different, and wanted so badly to contribute this time, to show his father he was a resource worth utilizing.  He thought a suggestion might force a conversation about his own role, and also force his father to acknowledge his mastery and superior knowledge of survival skills. He had proven that he could provide sim input, since he had done so at the Officer’s Academy.  His opinion had worth. He told himself his father would be impressed.

He had planned this conversation so carefully, and it hadn't gone at all as he'd planned. Armitage was angry at the rejection, especially since his father had done it via the lie about the tech, through the mouth of a Stormtrooper who didn’t know better.

He shouldn’t let his anger rule him, he was always so proud of his control, he’d been keeping it no matter what lately. But reminding himself of this made his anger worse, made his head throb, because _of course his father was seeing this_. And before he could stop himself, he let the argument he was trying not to make slip out.

“Certainly there are situations where the tech can fail-”

“Then the Officer will not,” his father’s voice cracked out and cut him off. He would, of course, entertain no argument about that tech, even when they both knew how useless it was.

His father turned back to CD-0922. “CD-0922 is correct. Our soldiers don’t have to worry about such things, the First Order will take care of them in an emergency. We train our officers to plan just as well as we teach our soldiers to fight, and each needs to trust the other completely.” His father’s face softened. “Thank you, CD-0922. Your faith in the Order is exemplary, and we are lucky to have you teaching our children. You’re everything we could hope they grow up to become.”

CD-0922 fairly glowed with the praise, and Armitage could feel the rage threatening to spill out over his lips, the derisive comments he wanted to make to the both of them. But he kept his face impassive, and let his fingers dig into the palms of his gloves behind his back. There was nothing he could do about the heat across his face, so he pressed his lips and tried to breathe through his nose, willing his muscles to relax and to regain control of his body.

He was collected well enough when his father turned back to address him, all traces of his softness replaced with angry disappointment.

“You are not.”

And with that, they hunched back over the console and pretended Armitage wasn’t there.

 

 

* * *

 

**13 ABY _…_**

 

 

Armitage found himself unable to dismiss the memory and focus on his other work, and could fairly taste the sharp rage on the back of his tongue as it bubbled up inside him again. Obviously he had been wrong about the role his father wanted him to play in the Trooper program. Apparently, he wanted some brainless soldier to agree with everything he said.

But an opportunity had presented itself at the conclusion of that session. Armitage’s father had answered a comm, frowning, and announced that he was being called away to a High Command meeting on the _Eclipse_. He had left without informing Armitage about arrangements back to the Officer’s Academy. Perhaps he hadn’t really remembered that Armitage was there. Armitage had been waiting days for someone to realize that he wasn't where he needed to be.

He had fully expected his father to leave with CD-0922, who often acted as his personal guard when he traveled anywhere. CD-0922, who his father trusted with his life. CD-0922, who loved his father for giving him everything he had, who appeared to be the child his father had always wanted. CD-0922, who had never been trained in leadership, and yet was all but leading the Trooper program.

To both of their surprises, the General had left CD-0922 behind, apparently too distracted to give the order to accompany him.

Armitage had savored the hurt expression on the Trooper’s face, mentally scorning him for his inability to do anything but follow directions and placate children. Armitage, on the other hand, was a leader, despite anything his father said about him. He always scored well on the Academy sims. And the other cadets listened to him. All of them, no matter how old or young, took orders from Armitage unquestioningly.

And then it hit him: it really was that simple. As much as Armitage loathed CD-0922, he realized that _he would do anything Armitage ordered him to._  A fully grown adult, the beloved "leader" of his father’s Stormtrooper program, would need to listen to little 13-year-old Armitage. Not just because Armitage was good at giving orders, but because it was the only thing CD-0922 was really programmed to do. That made everything easier.

So he had invented the pretext of the conspiracy against his life, and had ordered CD-0922 to stand guard in his suite for hours, through the other man’s sleep shifts and right up until he was scheduled to lead training. They both knew why Armitage was doing it. Armitage had waited for CD-0922 to complain, to say something against the duty, but today was the first time CD-0922 had spoken up. And it hadn’t been much.

Armitage was sweltering in his uniform now, sweat running down his neck and his undershirt and tunic sticking to his back and thighs. But he knew this would be nothing compared to what CD-0922 would feel under the armor and bodyglove. He stood and got himself a glass of water, carefully not looking at CD-0922, then settled back into the desk chair and continued to review the materials from his classes and the Trooper training program.  He focused on the individual cadets and their numbers this time, challenging himself to remember them, to recognize their numbers and identify their skills across the vids, to see the same patterns in all the students that CD-0922 did.  It was a skill worth having, and one he was already challenging himself to hone at the Officer's academy.  Weakness in others was valuable information, both to exploit for his own benefit and to eliminate to strengthen the First Order.

He was at peace. He let the sweat run down his face and practiced self-control, congratulating himself when he was able to still his hand and not wipe at it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that CD-0922 did not move, did not twitch.

He likely would not, unless Armitage prodded him again. His training was exemplary. He would never speak out against something like this.

After another few hours, Armitage rose, pleased with himself, and went into the refresher. He stripped out of his sweaty, damp uniform (still a hand-me-down, far too large and a bit ragged - he wondered when they'd finally get cadet uniforms that they could be proud to wear) and put it into the wall unit, setting it to be cleaned and perfectly pressed in six hours. He took a shower with real water, savoring the way his skin felt after it had been cleaned and scrubbed with his father’s superior soap and real hot water, something the ‘freshers in the Officer’s Academy lacked.

He was so distracted that he forgot his circumstances, and frowned when the door of the ‘fresher opened into the oven-like temperatures of the main living quarters. He nearly jumped when his eyes landed on CD-0922. He put his hand to the towel draped around his waist. He should not have appeared in anything less than a full uniform in front of a Trooper.

But he flatly refused to acknowledge the error, letting his hand drop and striding confidently into his own bedroom, next to his father’s rooms. He left the door open, disappearing into the large walk-in closet that contained only four outfits, all of which he had outgrown - a spare uniform, a formal show uniform that he had never worn, a set of civilian clothes that he’d also never worn (Armitage had never worn civilian clothes in his life, and had spent a great deal of time imagining a situation where he finally would), and a set of regulation black sleeping clothes. He pulled on the soft pants, ignoring how far the cuffs went up his calves, then pulled on the tight, short t-shirt.

He stood in the doorway to the main living area, pushing his hair out of his eyes and staring very intentionally at CD-0922. He felt the sweat pricking at the back of his neck. He pulled his t-shirt back off over his head, then retreated into his bedroom. He pulled up the controls next to his bed, dimmed the lights, then lowered the temperature in his own bedroom, leaving the lights on and the temperature high in the rest of the suite.

He then climbed into the bed, laying on top of the sheets. A neat bed had been drilled into him at a young age, and he’d learned as a child not to rumple the sheets, as he’d never get it tucked precisely enough to pass muster.

He rolled on his side and presented his bare back to CD-0922, knowing the light from the main room would illuminate it in the darkness of his bedroom.

He slept better, knowing he could make his father’s favorite do anything he wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General bullying throughout, and the flashback has some pretty intense neglect, implied cannibalism, and some very cheery executions that happen mostly off-screen.
> 
> [I made this post](https://vadianna.tumblr.com/post/165900303996/i-am-working-on-posting-chapter-2-of-landslide) with background info about the First Order in this fic, check it out if you like. They casually name-drop a lot of Star Destroyers in this chapter, but the three big ones are the _Absolution_ (Trooper Training, where the majority of the fic takes place), the _Equity_ (where the Officer Academy is), and the _Eclipse_ (the Super Star Destroyer where the High Command meeting in this chapter takes place).

**16 ABY...**

 

 

Colonel Varia Kel stood waiting at the bottom of the ramp as they disembarked the shuttle. She was as thin and severe as always, with her gray hair pulled back so tightly Armitage swore it took ten years off her appearance. His buoyant mood plummeted when he spotted her, though he was still surprised and elated to be attending a High Command meeting onboard the _Eclipse_.

He had been ordered to travel from the Officer’s Academy on the _Equity_  to meet Brendol on the _Absolution_. He had assumed it was more Trooper training observation, but when he'd arrived Brendol had gruffly informed him that they would be traveling to the _Eclipse_  directly to attend a High Command meeting. He was absolutely thrilled, and it felt like victory, like the best thing that had ever happened to him. It didn’t matter that he’d only been given three hours notice. He also didn’t care that he'd spent an hour of that interval sitting attentively and looking contrite while Brendol gave him a lecture about his failures and shortcomings, CD-0922 standing on his right as a mute witness to the humiliation. He should have schooled his expression better, but it had been such a surprise, and Armitage had been too happy.

First Order High Command was exclusive, and the identity of its members was highly classified. Armitage had assumed that High Command was simply Brendol, Admiral Sloane, and General Festine, the head of the emerging First Order Navy. Colonel Kel’s presence meant that the High Command wasn’t nearly as exclusive as he’d always imagined. He likely should have anticipated that, since Brendol had been bringing CD-0922 for a standard year.

Colonel Kel’s presence also meant that nearly twelve hours of his time had been wasted traveling between the _Equity_  and the _Absolution_. She was Commandant of the Officer’s Academy and paramount of the _Equity_ , and he could have traveled with her directly. The woman was fair and hard, but seemed to lack the wit to even feign human warmth. Speaking with her was difficult and awkward. She had allegedly been one of the instructors at the old Imperial Academy, having fled Arkanis during the war and rounded up in some sort of fortuitous reunion. Armitage had no use for her, but even she would have been better company than Brendol and CD-0922. 

She wore one of the new gray uniforms the instructors had recently been issued on the _Equity_ , and Armitage studied it covertly as he followed CD-0922 and Brendol down the shuttle ramp. It suited her, giving her edges she hadn’t had in the worn-out tatters of her black Imperial uniform. He was always thrilled to see new uniforms issued. It made them look more and more like the respectable authority they were, rather than a sad joke of an Imperial remnant. The disparity between the necessary investment of the new armor that the Stormtroopers wore and the ragged uniforms of the Commanding Officers was increasingly embarrassing. And the more staff that were issued uniforms, the closer Armitage got to having his own uniform, one that fit him. He tugged slightly at the hem of his jacket, still not used to the fit of the one he had been issued at the beginning of the term.

“Brendol, as expected,” Kel said as they reached the bottom of the ramp, her voice level and mechanical, her salute precise.

“Colonel Kel, at ease. It’s been too long since I’ve visited the _Equity_. Is the program still running smoothly?” Brendol greeted her warmly, arms spread wide. Brendol had a particular feel for his subordinates that Armitage begrudgingly admired. He seemed to know exactly what kind of approach suited each one best, and was a different man in front of many different people.

His strategy for the droid-like Kel was easy geniality, though Armitage had never determined why.

She nodded, expression unchanging. “It is functioning as anticipated. A trip is unnecessary. You can analyze the reports remotely, and we review most of the training and future programs during and after these High Command meetings.” Her gray eyes flicked over to Armitage, then back to Brendol. “I wasn’t aware that Armitage was joining us this morning.”

Brendol didn’t even turn to look at him. “Of course. We discussed bringing in some of the cadets to observe the meetings.”

Colonel Kel’s gaze went back to Armitage, though she was still speaking to Brendol. “We’ve spoken of that many times. Pilot Cadet Corre has been attending High Command meetings for a standard year, and CD-0922 even longer than that. I had given you my personal recommendation for Armitage some time ago.”

“Yes, and I told you that I thought Cadet Bor would be the better choice,” Brendol responded testily, his manner shedding some of its affability.

Armitage kept his face neutral, but his eyes darted briefly to Brendol. Bor was the oldest of the cadets, nearly twenty standard years. He was strong and somewhat crafty, but mean, and wore every thought he had on his face. He often attempted clumsy schemes to get Armitage disciplined. Even the instructors that didn’t like Armitage saw through them immediately. Annoyingly, Bor was never reprimanded for this - on some level, ambitious strategy was rewarded, though the implication was always that Armitage would be punished for doing anything similar. Armitage always made sure that his schemes were untraceable when he needed to fail a cadet or lead a purge, though it had been close a few times.

“So you did. But the rest of High Command stipulated that the representatives had to be the students at the head of their respective programs. You were the one who championed this, in fact, for CD-0922.” Kel’s eyes had stayed locked on Armitage’s. He couldn’t read her, and he crushed down his annoyance.

Brendol shook his head, shooting a glare at Armitage and gesturing impatiently to the silent Trooper on his other side. “CD-0922 is peerless,” he insisted, “and has earned his place in High Command. His knowledge of the troopers is invaluable. Armitage is-” he cut himself off, straightened, seemed to gather himself. His tone switched back to the warmth he used in front of Kel. “Armitage is still too… _young_ , Colonel. He doesn’t understand everything he needs to yet.”

Kel’s gaze bored into Armitage for another few seconds before she turned back to Brendol. “As you like, Brendol.”

Brendol looked between Kel and Armitage for a moment, then shook his head, dismissing the conversation. He started down the hallway, CD-0922 trailing a step behind him. Kel looked back at Armitage for another moment, then followed Brendol, arms clasped behind her back. Armitage took the rear position, letting Brendol’s insult simmer. He resented it when Brendol denigrated him in front of others when Armitage was expected to stand and be silent. He hated that Kel hadn’t spoken on his behalf. Did she not speak because she knew it was pointless, or because she agreed with his father? Certainly the former. She may lack interpersonal skills, but Kel knew when credit was deserved.

Also, he knew his father had an uncanny knack for expecting and receiving agreement when he made a statement, a way of imposing his will on others. It was another skill that Armitage was currently cultivating.

Armitage made a point to increase his pace and push roughly past CD-0922, falling in to Brendol's right, in the place he’d earned.

As they walked down the hall to the _Eclipse’s_  inner transport, they found General Bria Festine waiting by the door, datapad in hand. She glanced up at them as they approached, scowling and stowing the tech to nod.

“General Festine,” Kel saluted, as did Armitage and CD-0922.

“Colonel Kel, Brendol.” Festine’s eyes moved dispassionately between the two, and Armitage frowned again before he caught himself. Festine was the head of the Naval program, currently stationed as the paramount of the Star Destroyer _Pallation_ , which housed the Naval Officer’s Academy. She was roughly Brendol’s equal in the First Order.

Hux had always assumed Brendol was called by first name within the education programs as an informality, a way to make him seem closer to the students and staff.

Apparently he was not granted his title elsewhere.

Festine’s gaze lingered on Armitage, and she sized him up, crossing her arms. Armitage straightened incrementally, knowing already his posture was perfect. He’d met Festine only once, around ten years ago. He waited for her acknowledgment. He felt good, very confident, ready to be here. His new uniform even fit better than usual - the cuffs fell the right length on his wrists, and it was only a little baggy in the chest and shoulders.

“Armitage, I see your father has finally brought you to High Command.”

“Yes, sir.” He bristled at the casual use of his first name. He'd hoped to finally be ‘Cadet Hux’ here. He was the only student not granted a title and last name. He hated hearing ‘Armitage’ from everyone, and had always assumed it had something to do with Brendol’s informality.

“He was concerned about your age before. Always brought the Trooper, though.”

Armitage’s face twitched as he withheld a reaction, likely the same one he saw a hint of on Brendol’s face out of the corner of his eye. And what was he supposed to say to that? Did she want him to contradict the General of the Army in front of one of his Colonels? His Commandant? A Trooper?

Brendol saved him the trouble, predictably burying his achievements. “A fourteen-year-old has no place at the First Order High Command Meetings, General Festine. As I’ve said numerous times.”

Armitage side-eyed his father. He was sixteen. It was easy to remember. He was born in the year zero, the same day that Alderaan was destroyed. He wondered if the mistake was intentional, a dig at the fact he was small for his age.

“Brendol, I believe I was speaking to Armitage, not to you.” The rebuke was sharp, and his father’s shoulders pulled in as he frowned, crossing his arms and remaining silent.

When Festine turned back to Armitage, however, her eyes flicked up and down. “He could have fooled me, though. You’re the spitting image of your father at that age, boy. Might as well be his clone.”

Armitage reared back as if slapped, and looked over at his father, jaw dropping. Brendol sneered expressively at Armitage for just a moment, then looked back to Festine, rebuking her just as sharply as she’d done to him.

“ _Please_. The boy still has a long way to go before he’s ready for command.”

“I’m nothing like him,” Armitage spoke, almost at the same time as Brendol. They turned and met each other’s eyes, Armitage not letting his anger and annoyance show outwardly, his father repressing the same.

Festine rolled her eyes, which would have been impressive if she hadn’t just insulted Armitage outright. She turned to Armitage, gesturing casually with one hand to Brendol. “We grew up in the same residential complex on Arkanis. I’ll tell you a secret: the Emperor wasn’t beating down your grandparent’s door to get him into Command meetings at fourteen, either.”

Brendol shook his head, affecting a kind of aloofness.  Armitage could see him ignoring the slights, trying to be dismissive. “He’s nothing like me at that age, General.”

Armitage thought Brendol must not have realized he’d just said the same thing, or he wouldn’t have repeated it. But it was true, and one of the few things they could agree on. Aside from their uncommon hair, eye color, and complexion, they bore little resemblance to one another. The implication that he could be anything like his lazy, trumped-up father was insulting. Brendol was good with students, personnel, and recruitment. But he was miserable as head of the army, letting his Colonels run the ground operations for him. They could be so much better. Armitage saw it, even if Brendol didn’t.

Festine’s eyes moved between them again, and she almost smirked, shaking her head. “We’ve known each other too long, Brendol. Do you think for a second I’d forget that sour little expression on his face? The fact that I can practically feel the way he thinks he’s better than everyone else?” She _tsked_ at Armitage, and he decided this was not a situation that required expressionless calm, so he let his annoyed scowl show. She gave him an insincere smile in return, and turned to his father. “He even has the same sneer as you. So charming. Like father, like son.”

Armitage’s face snapped quickly back to his usual neutral expression. He hated the way all the older ex-Imperials seemed to know each other from before the war. He supposed that’s how alliances formed, but still.  It always led to these types of encounters, and Armitage loathed them.

“He’s a smug little shit, and he’ll crash and burn long before he ever graduates from _my academy_. The boy can’t even _dress himself_  properly, General.  Do you really think he’ll ever be a permanent part of High Command? He’ll be lucky to be assigned as a file clerk somewhere.”

“And what does that say about your program, Brendol, if he’s the best student? We’ll have those corrupt locals playing at administrator and stealing money from our pockets for a long time to come, at this rate. Are you any closer to graduating those older students? Or are we going to be waiting another decade for the perfect officers you keep promising us? Will they serve just long enough for us to start paying their pensions?”

Armitage couldn’t stop his eyes from widening slightly as his father’s face purpled, obviously not for show. He looked back over to General Festine, who gave him another cold, appraising stare. Armitage’s estimation of her rose slightly, even after all the insults.

When his father had no comeback and the others remained silent, the five of them boarded the transport and headed for the main meeting hall.

 

* * *

 

**5 ABY…**

 

  
  
Much had been made of recapturing the Star Destroyer _Absolution_  from pirates. It was the first time Armitage had seen people happy since the war had started. The _Absolution_  was another ship to add to the fleet, and it had been given to his father to use as as a school and a place to board and care for all the new recruits. It was an investment in the future of the First Order.

As Armitage sat on the cold durasteel floor in the flickering light of one of its holding cells, he didn’t think it was a very good thing at all. He was shivering in the dingy remnants of the cadet uniform he’d been wearing since they’d left Arkanis, and he was so hungry his whole body ached. He felt dizzy and tired, even though he hadn’t really done anything in almost a week.

He hugged his knees to his chest and glared out into the dark, cold cell, doing what the Counselor told him and pushing down his fear. He felt scared, but he wasn’t sure why. There wasn’t anything to be afraid of here. This was just a room full of crying children, mostly from Jakku and Belo. He hadn’t been in this room with them very long, but it was long enough to know he didn’t like them. He preferred the company of the other cadets from Arkanis. They had been scary, but they had listened to Armitage and they hadn’t cried or complained, even when they started to get hungry. These children cried because they were cold, and they didn’t know the rules like the other cadets had. He didn’t think he could give these new recruits orders like he had the cadets. His eyes scanned the room to find the groups clutching at one another, shivering. He exhaled, his breath forming a cloud around his face.

His eyes landed on a dark-haired boy, a little bigger and older than the others. He wasn’t crying. He was staring at Armitage across the room. Armitage went and sat next to him, leaning into his side, scowling down into his dirty lap and stuffing his cold hands between his thighs. He didn’t want to sit next to one of the crying children, but sitting in groups was a good idea. It was warmer. This boy wore a poncho, short pants, and heavy boots that made Armitage think he’d been picked up on Jakku. He was probably colder than Armitage.

“What do you want?” the boy asked sullenly, not looking over.

His rough accent was definitely from Jakku. Armitage winced. He’d probably have lessons about how to speak like an Imperial as soon as the classes started again. Armitage decided the boy must know he didn’t speak right, and decided not to comment on it. Maybe it was hard on Jakku, if there weren’t very many citizens of the Empire there.

“I want someone to sit next to. It’s cold.” Armitage paused, annoyed that an explanation was necessary. When the boy didn’t say anything, Armitage continued. “What’s your name?”

“Archex.”

He opened his mouth to say his own name, but stopped suddenly. He’d been punished by his father for getting too familiar with the other cadets, for trying to make friends. He felt the remembered pain of his father’s hand shaking his neck, snapping his head painfully back and forth, and recalled his hissed warning, _if you have time to waste_ playing _, you have time to do more of your fitness routine. Don’t let me catch you_ slumming _with that washout trash again._

He didn’t know what slumming was, but he knew these weren’t cadets, just recruits. He thought about what else he could do, something that might make his father proud if he were to walk through the door and bring them a meal right now. He could do his fitness routine here, and it would keep him warm, but he was too tired and hungry. He thought about falling asleep. But he’d been sleeping a lot lately, and right now some part of his mind was warning him that falling asleep was a bad idea, keeping the small fire of his fear stoked. He thought of the failed cadets, and it kept him awake.

He could study. He’d liked studying in his room by himself when he was on Arkanis. Looking at the maps of the old battles was fun, and his instructors were always impressed when he did recitations. But there was nothing to study here, no holopads or sim stations.

There weren’t any practice weapons for drills, and he didn’t have a teacher that would give him problems to solve or lessons to repeat back.

There were only these crying children in the room. He turned his head tiredly to the side. This boy, the biggest, seemed like he might be worth getting friendly with, now that the other Arkanis cadets had failed the program. But he decided not to tell Archex his name now, fearful that his father might somehow find out he was talking to him.

“You weren’t crying,” he ventured, trying to see how Archex felt about the ship.

“I don’t,” Archex replied snidely, then turned to look Armitage up and down. “You should be warm enough in that.”

Armitage wrinkled his nose, looking down at his dirty uniform. He had short gray pants that showed off the mess of bruises on his legs above his scuffed black ankle boots and high socks. His socks were sliding down, not tight anymore, and there was a tear in the left knee of his short pants. The white tunic was long-sleeved, but very dirty, and had a blood stain across the front. His ragged cuffs were missing the shiny brass decorative buttons. He also had gloves, but he’d worn holes in the fingers. The tunic had begun to itch around the neck and chest, where he’d sweat through the heavy fabric while on Jakku. He’d lost his hat somewhere. He’d expected to be punished for it, but nobody had noticed. He’d thought about taking one from a failed cadet, but he decided to wait until he was issued another with a new uniform.

Armitage looked back up at Archex, wiping at his face with a hand, still feeling the grit from Jakku against his skin. He felt like he would never get clean after being on that planet. “I’m cold,” he confirmed petulantly, “and I haven’t changed or showered in in a long time, either.”

Archex looked incredulous. “Shower?”

“Yeah. I haven’t had a shower since…” he paused. “I want one. Jakku was too dirty.”

Archex continued to stare at him, looking slightly confounded. “A shower… to clean yourself? How often do you clean yourself?”

Armitage blinked at him, confused, then realized Archex must not shower very often. His face pinched in disgust. “Every morning, when I was in school.” He pulled on the frayed cuffs of his tunic, trying to look more presentable, and hated the feeling of his fingers through the holes of his gloves. He shifted and raked his fingers through his greasy hair, pulling on it in annoyance. “I was always issued a fresh uniform after, too.”

“ _Every day_?” Archex looked him up and down again in disbelief. “You had new clothes to wear every day, too?”

“A clean uniform. That’s part of my classes. We have to look like an officer and take pride in our appearance, since we are the pride of the Empire.” He sat up straighter and corrected his posture as he remembered his lessons.

Archex sneezed, then turned away dismissively. “I heard there isn’t an Empire anymore. You must have rich parents.”

“Rich?” Armitage glanced around quickly, not sure exactly what that meant, but deciding that it must mean that Armitage was better than Archex, fit to give orders. Armitage knew it was true. “My dad is an officer. They said this ship was his.”

Archex turned back to him, more interested now. “Is your dad the one in the gray clothes? With red hair and a mustache? He told me that he would teach me how to be a soldier and help people.”

Armitage nodded enthusiastically, smiling slightly at him. “That’s my dad.”

“Is this really his ship?”

Archex was evaluating him more carefully now, and Armitage looked around again and nodded. “Yes.”

He struggled to think of something positive to say about it. But the pirates had taken most of its supplies. It had no beds, blankets, or food, and had been stripped of so many parts that it barely ran. They said it was ‘dead in space’ when they found it, but they’d gotten it working enough to board. He’d heard that he was lucky they could breathe, and that there wasn’t enough power to heat the ship above bare minimum right now.

“It’s a valuable part of the Imperial Navy. There aren’t very many Star Destroyers left. This is one of them, and it’s my dad’s to command.”

“Who cares,” Archex replied, interest waning. He shifted forward and looked back out into the dim room, still full of flickering light and crying children. “Even if he is your dad, you’re still stuck in here with us, just as cold.”

The dismissal stung. Armitage pushed his fingers through his hair again, frowning, liking Archex a little less. “It’s not that cold.”

Archex turned to him and smirked, his dark eyes glinting maliciously. “You’re the one that wanted to get warm.”

Armitage was immediately furious, curling his fingers into his hair and pulling again, glaring at Archex. He looked around the room to find the other Arkanis cadets before remembering that they’d all been failed. He was hungry, and it was making him confused, which only made his anger worse. The sharp fury warred with the foggy blackness of starvation that threatened to overcome his thoughts.

He’d lived with the other Arkanis cadets until two days ago. They hadn’t minded the cold, but they’d grown more and more agitated the longer they went between meals. They’d had starvation training at the Academy before, though never for this long. Armitage thought it was another exercise, since they weren’t really having any other classes right now. None of the cadets had mentioned the lack of food, either amongst themselves or to the harried officers that brought their occasional thin meals. So Armitage had been taken completely by surprise when one of the cadets suddenly snapped and turned on another. He had watched from near the door as the whole group surged toward the struggling victim. Two other cadets had fallen as they injured each other to get to the first, and they disappeared under the same frenzy of tearing hands and mouths.

Armitage had stood back, apart, indifferent, but he had been terrified, much more than he’d ever felt in his life. He was nearly sick with it, and had to swallow to keep from throwing up the nothing that was in his stomach. He’d remembered to hide it though, that fear was only okay if it was used correctly, and he desperately pushed it down. But he couldn’t help that his legs shook, and he wondered if the other cadets would know he was scared, even if he wasn’t crying, even if he was trying to keep his mouth still and his eyes on them.

When they’d finished, he’d ordered two of them to beat the door down to let them all out, knowing if he did it himself he’d look weak and they’d turn on him. When the door had been opened, the group of cadets took down two armed Stormtroopers before the order was finally given to fail all of them. Armitage had watched the executions, blood spraying across his chest and face when they got to the boy closest to him. He’d spoken up then, and let the troopers know that he was okay, he wasn’t one of them, that this wasn’t his doing. There had been a bad moment when he’d looked up the barrel of a plasma rifle to the indifferent helmet of a Trooper and wondered if they’d believe him, or if it didn’t matter and he had failed too. His legs shook again, but he hadn’t cried, and he’d kept his eyes on the blank visor as he’d given the order to the Trooper to lower his weapon. It had worked.

He fingered the stain on the front of his uniform, still hungry, and furious now that he didn’t have anyone who would take his orders. He wanted to show this _refugee_  what it was to be a cadet. He wanted Archex to learn the rules.

He ran his fingers through his hair one more time, then shot to his feet, his vision going black at the edges. He blinked, refusing to put a hand against the wall to steady himself. He stood at attention and let his voice fill the room.

“Stand.”

As one, the children stopped crying. Armitage looked around, and saw that all of them were looking at him.

Good.

“You heard me,” he ordered. “Stand up.”

Beside him, Archex snorted. “Why should I?”

His fury was so intense that his vision was once again black. How dare this boy? How dare this filthy desert dweller question him? After the cadets had not? The cadets had been better than this older boy, this...

 _Washout trash_ , his father’s voice whispered in his head.

 _If you protect me from them, I’ll protect you from him_ , Admiral Sloane’s voice followed, and suddenly he was afraid, because she didn’t need protecting from the cadets anymore. He felt his father’s hand on the back of his neck again, felt the headache creeping into his skull, and his vision blurred as fear and exhaustion crept up. He pushed down the fear like the Counselor had told him, dismissed the exhaustion, forced himself to focus on the outlander scum before him.

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” Armitage snarled down at him, and he balled his hands up into fists, his fingernails scraping the palms of his gloves through the holes in the fingers, and he turned his fury on the room. “You’re all cold. Is crying about it making you warmer?”

He felt his stomach knot. Armitage wasn’t too cold, just very hungry and angry. But he hadn’t heard a single complaint about hunger. There wasn’t anything he could do about hunger, but he could make them warm. They would do the fitness routine, just like his father told him. Armitage would lead them through it, and they would be happy, they might do what he told them after that. He was tired, but this was important, and he could do it, he wasn’t weak.

“Then stand up,” he ordered, his fury abating as almost all the children got to their feet. He raised his lip when he saw how slow they were, how disordered, how they shivered.

“Cadet calisthenic routine, part one,” he announced to the room, trying to use the same tone as the instructors, seeing his breath cloud around his face and hearing his voice echo against the high, dark ceiling. “Repeat after me. Down, one.”

And he watched as everyone but Archex bent down towards their toes. After a few repetitions, Archex got sullenly to his feet and started following along.

Armitage smiled to himself. He could do this. This was easy.

 

* * *

  
**16 ABY…**

 

 

“We need that base on Gorra, or we _will_  lose the planet,” Colonel Neel insisted dramatically. She was paramount of the _Subjugator_ , the mobile Trooper force that primarily patrolled the eastern reaches, and one of his father’s best officers. She wasn’t an Imperial, and had been recruited from a fringe system on the Outer Rim, where she’d been head of planetary defense and deeply impressed by the goals of the First Order. She was currently wrapping up a campaign requested by the government of Gorra that involved crushing a rebellion that had attempted to overthrow the trade-friendly ruling party.

“Built with _what credits_ , Colonel?” Admiral Sloane replied in a hard, unforgiving voice. She stood in front of a durasteel podium at the head of the room, a large map of the systems around Gorra projected behind her. Brendol and General Festine stood at podiums that faced each other on either side of the room, while the rest of the High Command leadership was seated at small desks around them.

“We can barely keep up with costs for our current mobile fleet. Will you ground the entirety of the _Subjugator’s_  forces on Gorra while we construct the base so we can save money on fuel and supplies? Do you think that’s a good idea? And how would you feed 40,000 extra bodies on Gorra, without increasing the number of supply runs with ships we don’t have?”

“It’s happened too often, Admiral,” Neel argued. “We come into these places, drive out the invading forces, promise protection, and schedule supply routes. We leave a unit of Overseers and Stormtroopers. Then what happens? What happened to Horu? Be-Ro-Te? Tix?”

Sloane rolled her eyes. The question was rhetorical. They were beginning to get a reputation. If the First Order aided a planet located away from a hyperlane, any interested parties only had to wait for the capital ships to leave the system before slaying the peacekeeping unit and taking the planet for themselves. These recurring invasions interrupted the badly-needed supply routes from those planets and wasted the lives of well-trained men and women, which they also couldn’t afford. They were spending an increasing amount of time and resources taking the same planets over and over again.

“We need to begin establishing steady ground operations, Admiral. It’s time. Gorra is in an excellent position for our emerging eastern front. We could use it as a supply depot, a shipping point, and a place to stage troopers and supplies for activity in the eastern territories. We could even colonize it ourselves. The planet is sparsely populated, and colonists could farm it for more food. Families would send their sons and daughters to our Academies. We need to begin thinking about more long-term strategies. We can’t always hide in our Star Destroyers, living hand to mouth and promising ourselves that we’ll eventually be better than the Empire.”

“Pretty words. But my question stands, Colonel. How do you propose we get the money to construct the base? And how are we shipping supplies there to build and outfit a construction force? We need more.”

Festine spoke up. “Ships might not be a problem, Admiral. The messes we’ve been cleaning up with the Outer Rim pirates and smugglers are bringing in vessels that could be easily repurposed for shipping and transport needs, both supplies and bodies. We could even ship TIEs in some of them, if we can get enough.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And our pilot program is thriving. We have fighter pilots, but no starfighters. That part of the operation would work.”

The Order had a trained Navy, and Festine was good at all aspects of running it. She was a better General than Brendol, who was a poor strategist, over-reliant on his Colonels and terrible at assigning resources. Festine was better, and had so far excelled with what was available to the Navy. But the Order had barely more than the remnants of the Imperial Starfighter fleet, and those ships were quickly falling out of service. The Order was designing new TIEs, and all the Resurgent-class Capital ships had vast empty bays to accommodate them, but the TIEs could not be produced fast enough. Most Destroyers only had a single unit of new TIEs alongside a few dozen twenty-year-old fighters in poor condition. Their naval tactics were largely intimidation and surface strikes, which admittedly didn’t take a strategic genius to oversee.

“If we can ship to Gorra easily,” Neel went on, thinking aloud, “We should leave a force of ten thousand troopers and a thousand specialists. We could address issues in nearby systems from there with transport ships. That number should be sufficient to guard a supply terminal too, and leaving that many behind would relieve some of the resource burden from the _Subjugator_. And we wouldn’t need to be embarrassed by Gorra getting taken as soon as our back’s turned. It’s the kind of show of power we need right now.”

“Fine,” Sloane allowed, inclining her head. “But the fact remains. We don’t have the fuel for the ships Festine’s been gathering, nor the resources to construct that type of facility. A ground-based operation has little backup and is vulnerable to invasion, jeopardizing eleven thousand lives and whatever native force gets involved.  It also leaves stationery evidence of the First Order that could easily be found, and we are not ready to be discovered yet.”

“A force that size wouldn’t be vulnerable on the ground. We could gain material by diverting the resources from the construction of the _Advantage._  And the position is far enough in the eastern territories that it is extremely unlikely to be discovered by any Outer Rim ships. It will get us a step closer to _being ready_  for discovery!” Neel was raising her voice, becoming too impassioned. She was an excellent strategist, and Armitage agreed with her logic here. But she was far too hot-headed and impulsive, and made enemies easily.

Armitage turned to Brendol, who watched everything silently, hands behind his back, standing a step behind his podium. He hadn’t entered the discussion, which was odd. Such a large number of Troopers stationed planetside would normally warrant comment from him.

“We have to continue production on the _Advantage_ ,” Sloane answered in a calm voice, just this side of impatient. “We need it if we want to maintain our foothold in the southern systems. And we can’t suddenly stop paying our bills to Sienar-Jaemus. That would be a bad move.” Sloane leaned forward, crossing her arms in front of her. The agitation was showing on her face. Armitage had noticed she was less likely to hide what she was thinking as the years went on.

“We cannot continue to take systems that will be re-captured right from under us. It’s a problem that needs to stop now,” replied Colonel Jequoor. She was another one of Brendol’s colonels, paramount of the _Deliverance_ , recently stationed to cover the western reaches. In Armitage’s opinion, she was too reserved with her resources, but better at Command than Neel.

“Why not tax the locals?” Brendol suggested, taking a step forward to lean against his podium. “They could simply build the base for us. It wouldn’t have to cost us a single credit.”

Armitage saw how this suggestion caught the attention of the room, striking everyone momentarily silent.

Festine turned to Sloane. “We haven’t tried that yet.” Their current strategy was to negotiate resources and supply lines before the enemy threat was pacified, and trade resources between systems to keep all the planets fed and housed adequately. “It might be worthwhile.”

Sloane shook her head. “Brendol’s not wrong, but that’s an ugly way to get an advantage. It’s not balanced. It isn't fair, it isn't _order_. We don’t want to put ourselves in a situation where we leave unhappy systems in our wake, stripped of resources and subjugated by our soldiers. That will give us a worse reputation than returning to planets to be heroes again and again.”

Brendol shook his own head, expression carefully neutral, as it always was when he spoke to Sloane. Armitage had always wondered what Sloane had done to him that made him so reserved, when normally he’d be clawing for every scrap of favor. “Admiral, we have been having the same conversations, these same issues, for over ten years. Where will the credits come from? How can we afford to expand our forces? To pacify? To keep our order? If we don’t find more capital, it will be decades before we can grow beyond the Unknown Region and begin our forays into the Outer Rim in earnest, let alone the rest of the galaxy. Colonel Neel was correct about that. We have to make the decision not to be miserly with resources anymore.  We are the power and it does cost something to _keep_ order.”

Festine nodded gravely and turned back to Sloane. “He’s right. We’ve been waiting for years to find the planet that will gain us an edge, the vein of resources that we can tap into and share.”

“And it’s been happening,” Sloane insisted. “We’ve conquered new mining systems that provide the materials for our weapons and armor, we have solid lines that will keep producing enough materials and credits to build our TIEs, and we have planets that provide food for our soldiers. We’ve found more than enough specialists to staff our facilities until Brendol’s programs fully mature. We’ve _been_  growing steadily, General. I think our system works, and it gets better and larger every year. We will grow, and we will do it without taking money from our systems like some cartel.”

“Our soldiers aren’t as mobile as we need them to be, and you know it,” Brendol argued, keeping his voice level, his face neutral, his posture easy. “We’re all familiar with taxation strategies, Admiral. We also know they work. We just need to leave a loyal officer to oversee the operation. Someone who knows how to talk to the locals.”

“It’s exploitation, Brendol, and it’s not a strategy we need to consider at this time.”

“Permission to speak, Admiral,” Armitage asked clearly, standing from his seat at attention.

“Granted, Armitage,” Sloane said after a pause, eyeing him wearily.

Armitage pressed his lips at the familiar address, but continued. All eyes were on him. “The alternative to the base is far worse, from a local perspective. We tell these planets, these systems, these people, that they’ll be safe from those who would prey on them. We tell them that the First Order can govern fairly, can get them what they need, and that their lives will be improved because we exist. But when we leave and the planets are immediately subjugated by their enemies, that sends the message that we are weak. We do not bring Order. We are only recruiting and leaving, and it’s no different than if we hadn’t been there at all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father’s face redden. Armitage knew it was a good speech, and that he had upstaged Brendol, but Brendol couldn't reprimand Armitage in front of High Command. CD-0922 stared straight ahead, helmet giving nothing away. Everyone else in the room either nodded gravely or stared at him. Sloane was doing the latter.

“Thank you for the propaganda, Armitage, it’s good to know that your father’s programs are working.” She sighed. “We know all that. We wrote it. We also know, from experience, that taxing the locals gets out of hand with even the slightest hint of corruption. We've already seen those problems with our less loyal specialists, and that's just with materials changing hands.  We aren’t in a position to monitor taxation closely enough to guarantee that the locals won’t be exploited. This was one of the problems with the old Empire, and we don’t need to repeat their mistakes.”

Armitage looked at her coldly. “So we gain a reputation as weak liars, unable to fulfill our promises.”

Sloane stared at him. He stared back, his expression schooled into careful neutrality. He thought of her promise, _If you’re willing to keep me safe from the children, then I will keep you safe from your father._  It had meant the world to him at the time, the kind of safety and relief he craved.  But she had only spoken to him twice after that. The second time, when he’d gone to her with a black eye and broken fingers, she’d explained to him that training was difficult, but that cadets pulled each other up to higher levels, and hard fights would make him a better soldier. It would make him hard.

It had. Perhaps his fights had been harder than the ones she’d been fighting herself.

Festine was nodding, and addressed the room next. “Armitage has a point. We can use our previous defeats to highlight the need for the tax and the protection, and use some propaganda to make sure construction is completed quickly.” She turned to Neel. “Colonel, what’s the current public opinion planetside?”

Neel nodded sharply. “High. It’s a good strategy. We could do it.” She considered for a moment. “I have a Lieutenant I could leave there as an overseer. Old Empire, looked long and hard to find the remnants in order to serve, apparently. I would and have trusted her with my life. She’s a real sweet talker. She could do it easily, and they would love her for it.”

Sloane’s grip tightened on the podium again. “Do you really think it wise to leave an Imperial in charge? Isn’t that just begging for a corrupt Moff situation?”

“We don’t have anyone else,” Brendol tried, face still red, and Armitage could tell he was struggling visibly with his temper, and was having trouble going along with this plan now that Armitage had made his own suggestion. Armitage subtly wiped at his mouth, hiding a smirk. He had taken his father’s plan and made it his own out from underneath him. He tried to catch CD-0922’s eye, but the Trooper was sitting quietly, not moving a muscle or contributing.

Kel cleared her throat and spoke for the first time since the meeting had begun. “We could pull one of the senior Officer trainees, but I think it would be wiser to have a more experienced hand for this.”

Sloane looked carefully around the room. “You’re serious. You want to start bankrupting the local populations again? Based on a stirring speech from a student?” She gestured toward Armitage, giving him a cold look. “Everyone in this room knows that we can come up with whatever pretty words we want for the locals. It will not change the fact that we are taking their money, nor will it make this into anything flattering for the Order.”

When everyone silently stared at her, not answering, she shook her head and continued. “This isn’t how we maintain order, this is how we nurture rebellions.”

“We need to vote on it,” Festine said.

“Seconded,” Neel spoke up quickly.

Sloane’s jaw worked, but Armitage saw that she had been caught in procedure, in bureaucratic red tape.

“All in favor?”

A chorus of agreement went around the room. He barely heard his father’s voice, and noticed with interest that the Naval Cadet voted with the others. CD-0922’s distinctive voice through the vocoder remained silent. He covered his mouth with a smirk again as he studied the seated Trooper. He knew that CD-0922 did not have the same humanitarian fears as the Admiral, and not voting for Armitage’s idea was just pettiness.

His gaze traveled back to Sloane, who sighed and leaned forward again. She had been overruled. “Then we’ll set up the operations on Gorra.” Her gaze, unreadable, went to Brendol, then to Armitage and back.

“You did teach him everything you know. You should be so proud, Brendol.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux takes a beating from Cardinal when they are both fairly young, and mentions other trauma-heavy injuries that cadets suffer frequently. Skip the flashback to skip that.

**23 ABY…**

 

Armitage was lying on the overstuffed black couch in the living area, his head on the armrest and a datapad propped lazily on his chest, when the door open to admit CD-0922. When he idly turned his head to regard the other man, he had to stifle his surprise - CD-0922 was not wearing his helmet, and his expression suggested he was not happy.

“That protocol droid still hasn’t been fixed.”

“You know how it is. Better ways to allot resources.” He waved the complaint away. CD-0922 almost never mentioned the protocol droid anymore. Armitage had nearly forgotten about it - he had added and removed CD-0922 from the security clearance many times over the years, and never bothered to add him back once Brendol stopped residing on the _Absolution_. He wasn’t about to fix that now, though. It was a good challenge for the man.

Armitage shifted, pushing himself up and into a sitting position. He was dressed casually, wearing a heavy floor-length black robe over loose sleeping shorts. He wouldn’t have appeared out of uniform in front of any other Trooper, nor would he have called a meeting in his private quarters. But CD-0922 was still a special case. He liked taunting the other with how little his presence meant to him, among other things.

He let the robe slide off his thighs, then made a show of crossing his legs and covering them with the robe once again, pulling it back into his lap and folding his hands primly atop it as he gave the Trooper his cold regard.

“Have you run the Goor-Jo simulations today?” It also pleased him to call CD-0922 to his rooms for any small request, especially on his off-shifts, rather than scheduling a meeting during the day.

“Yes.” Still no _sir_ in private. Armitage no longer insisted on it with CD-0922. He thought it would cast just the right amount of doubt on the rest of his petty revenges, make the two of them seem closer than they were. And for all the time they’d spent together with Brendol growing up, the two of them might as well have been brothers.

But brothers used each other’s names, and Armitage wasn’t about to call the other man by anything but a number unless he had to.

“How did the students take it?”

CD-0922 still did not look happy. “It ran as expected. The new children from Goor-Jo didn’t mix well with the other students, but they beat the simulation. The others struggled.”

“Was it the sand bogs?”

“Yes. It’s difficult terrain, nothing we’ve fought in before.”

“Good.” Armitage nodded sharply, still taking in CD-0922’s distress. “One more thing they’ll be prepared for if we need sudden action on an uncharted planet.

These recent simulations had been Armitage’s contribution to the program. He began developing them in earnest as soon as he had been moved to the head of the Stormtrooper Academy program last year. Of course, Brendol was the Director of Educational Resources for the First Order, so he still had the last word. But he rarely bothered Armitage about decisions any more, not even to make a nuisance of himself. He had good, loyal personnel in place at the academies and the high-level officer postings to make his decisions for him.  They did good work, and overseeing and second-guessing would be too much trouble. Besides, there was nothing to argue with, and the old man didn’t have the energy to invent problems like he used to. Armitage’s new programs were brilliant.

Armitage had ordered all recently annexed planets analyzed for terrain, weapons, fighting techniques, resources, and anything else they could feed into a simulation. These new simulations drilled the Troopers in new fighting styles, weapons defense strategies, and even how to move and fight in terrain where they were at a disadvantage. Armitage always analyzed the data himself and wrote the simulations. He tested all of them on CD-0922 first, and Armitage had to admit that the other man knew best how the students would adapt and learn from them. He had yet to be incorrect about the results.

However, there was a small, ongoing disagreement concerning the children recently rescued from the planets. CD-0922 claimed that running the simulations on them was traumatizing as well as unnecessary, since they already knew how to fight under those circumstances. Armitage had overruled his protests - it helped him tweak the sims and make them more realistic, gave him ideas for more advanced scenarios, and it wasn’t as if it mattered how much they were traumatized before their programming really began to take hold. All of it would go away in time.

As Armitage took in the other man’s displeasure, he leaned back in the couch, stretching his arms across the back. It wasn't the Goor-Jo sims that had the Trooper upset, though Armitage had enjoyed the reminder of the disagreement. “You’re troubled, CD-0922. Tell me why.”

CD-0922 looked at Armitage, then away. “Can’t you call me Cardinal? When it’s just the two of us?”

Armitage barely suppressed the contempt as it consumed him from the inside. He was above that now, he was above CD-0922. He was better than that.

But there was still part of him that would rather call the man by a number for the rest of his life than acknowledge the name he had 'earned.'

 

* * *

   
**6 ABY…**

 

 

”Again.”

Armitage picked himself up off the ground, his arms trembling, blood running from his nose. He sat back on his knees and sniffed, raising his hand before remembering, masking the gesture by wiping the blood off his face. He had a nervous habit of running his fingers through his hair and pulling. His father had shaved his head after he’d been reprimanded one too many times. Armitage dare not ask when he was allowed to let his hair grow back. He hated it. He looked just like the other new recruits this way. He heard they were shaved as a hygiene regulation. The new recruits used to get washed in special baths and inoculated with shots, but they'd run out of those kinds of medicine and hygiene solutions last month. They now shaved them and sprayed them with something that made them smell bad for weeks. A few of them had died, the weakest ones.

His nose throbbed from where Archex had landed a glancing blow, but it wasn’t bad. He’d gotten better at dodging. He flexed the fingers of his left hand, which had healed completely after Archex had broken them while disarming him three months back. That might have hurt worse than when he’d broken his leg earlier in the year, but it was all the same to Armitage. He’d learned to deal with the pain, push it to the back of his mind and keep going. He’d seen worse injuries, and at least he and Archex didn’t train with flame or plasma weapons. Everyone did their part, and every injury motivated Armitage to making sure it never happened again. He'd learned it was a very basic part of the program.

Armitage’s eyes darted quickly to his father, who had given the sharp order to continue and was scowling down at him. But he couldn't afford to get distracted during a fight, so he focused his attention on Archex, the big scavenger boy from Jakku. Armitage and Archex had been aboard the _Eclipse_  for about a year together, and were in most of the same classes. Armitage was advanced for his age (he was the only 6-year-old in the class with the older students, and they still weren't learning the same things that he had remembered from his classes at the academy), but Archex was a bully, big and mean and stupid. Archex was the only student that would fight Armitage for real in combat training.  The other recruits wouldn't dare touch him.

Archex stood on the other side of the ring, his practice staff held loosely in front of him. The boy was well-muscled and lean, five years older and likely twice the weight of Armitage, and he was wearing a tight black-and-gray training outfit, the same sleeveless top and pants that all the recruits wore. Most of them didn’t fit. Archex had one that was the correct size, but none of them were small enough for Armitage, so his hung off him loose and baggy, a liability that Archex often exploited. Archex was also the most savage soldier in his father’s army, ever since those Arkanis cadets had been failed last year.

His father loved Archex. He always kept the other boy close, and praised him constantly, usually at the same time he was scolding Armitage for being too small and too weak.

Because his father had given the order, Armitage stood back up like a good soldier, taking his own training staff with him, and both boys assumed a ready position. They both stood waiting for the other to make a move - Archex because he knew Armitage would eventually be goaded into it by his father’s pressure, Armitage because he hoped to defend himself successfully, at least once. He licked the blood from his upper lip, tasting salt and copper and wishing that Archex would do something stupid, just once, during a fight.  He tightened his grip on his training staff, feeling the rough wooden grip biting into his palms and wishing he could go back to the blaster training he had been so good at on Arkanis.  

When Armitage could feel his father’s disapproval and impatience crawling all over him like a second skin, he surged forward, dropping to a knee at the last second to try and land a blow by sliding under Archex’s guard.

He was much smaller and quicker that the other boy, and the move actually worked. He slammed his staff into Archex’s thigh, and both boys stopped short, staring at each other in wide-eyed shock. But Armitage wasn’t strong enough to knock the other boy over, and Archex recovered quickly from his surprise. Armitage was sent backwards with a blow to the face when he couldn’t get his staff back up in time. Archex hit him hard enough that he bit his tongue and felt his jaw crack shut. When he landed, he delicately probed the inside of his mouth to make sure he still had all his teeth. They weren’t giving the students that lost them in fights new ones anymore.

His head was ringing, and Armitage rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts and will his vision clear. When it did, he flinched when he saw that his father was standing over him, scowling down. He wished he hadn’t flinched. He’d been trying hard not to do that anymore.

“CD-0922,” he barked. The other boy appeared, and his father put his arm around the other boy and pulled him to his side. Archex glowed with pride, both at his father’s embrace and the Trooper designation, which had been newly awarded.

“You are an asset to this school, and an excellent example for the other students. You take great and obvious pride in fighting for the First Order, and you show others what comes of putting in your best effort.” The praise for Archex was sincere, but his father scowled down at Armitage as he said it. Armitage felt his eyes swimming with tears, and he desperately willed them back. He’d learned long ago not to cry in front of his father. And he would rather die than do so in front of anyone else. Only his father really had the power to make him cry anymore.

“You’re as good as any Imperial soldier now.” And with that, he did turn to Archex, his expression softening. “I want you to come with me planetside when I do recruiting, to do combat demonstrations.” He patted the boy’s head, and his expression grew more fond. “Would you like to tell the other children about us? And how we’re trying to save planets like theirs, with their help?”

Archex looked awe-struck. “Yes, sir! I would love to!” But his expression grew more serious, and he looked down to Armitage. “But don’t I still have a lot to learn in school, here on the _Eclipse_?”

The General turned back to Armitage, sneering. “Not nearly as much as some people. There are students who will be here their entire lives, at this rate.”

And with that, his father turned and left the shabby training room with Archex, an arm around the boy’s waist. Armitage stayed on the floor, bleeding, beaten and humiliated.

The next day, the students were divided up into trooper and officer cadet groups. The early officer training classes began, the precursor to the Academy courses that had commenced three years later on board the _Equity,_ and Armitage had hoped to see much less of Archex.

Unfortunately, the other boy always seemed to be wherever his father was, and their combat training together continued.

 

* * *

   
**23 ABY…**

 

 

  
“No, I’m afraid not, CD-0922. Calling you by a chosen name is too informal, and I want to set a good example for the others. I’d hate to have a thoughtless slip when we were in public. You know how comfortable I am around you.”

The other man ( _Archex_ , he hadn’t thought of CD-0922's birth name in years, was surprised he still remembered it) looked even more unhappy, but nodded. “I understand.”

“But you came in here upset, and it's not because I won't call you Cardinal.” Armitage smiled at him, his fake placating smile, trying to mollify him. “Tell me.”  

He made it soft, the suggestion of an order to compel the other man, but not unkindly.  But Armitage knew damn well what was wrong. It was Phasma. It was always Phasma. CD-0922 had been acting like a kicked pet since Brendol had 'rescued' her. CD-0922 and Brendol had both been so put out and angry when Phasma had appeared in her own custom chrome armor two years back that Armitage had wished he’d thought to give her the armor himself. He'd been more than happy to inform CD-0922, Brendol, and anyone else who asked that he’d conferred the rank of Captain and given the armor his authorization. 

As loathe as he was to agree with Brendol, Phasma was his own private favorite after she'd managed to annoy both Brendol and CD-0922 with that one impressive gesture. He'd been pleased that she'd left him the opening to step in and make it worse. That by itself had been worth the promotion to the top of the Trooper hierarchy. The rank had annoyed Brendol and devastated CD-0922, but she had earned it, and it was the only way to justify the custom armor and let her keep it. He could tell there was something about it that irked Brendol, something that Phasma had on him, but he hadn’t found out what yet.

But it was more than just her armor, of course. Armitage was an excellent judge of people. Just as he knew that CD-0922 was safe, would always serve faithfully and unquestioningly and that there was no better instructor to work with the children, he knew that Brendol’s new Captain was exceptional. She was the best soldier any of them had seen, and there was simply no arguing with that. Brendol had taken to bringing her everywhere with him, leaving CD-0922 behind without a second glance. It had been Armitage who’d had to smooth CD-0922’s obviously bruised ego, using the opportunities to subtly needle him, seeing how far he could push the man with backhanded compliments before he noticed. He never did.

But Brendol was, perhaps, not the same good judge of people that Armitage was. Armitage could see that Phasma was powerful, power-hungry, and a frighteningly fast learner. He could trust her to do as ordered and excel spectacularly. He would not trust her with his life, nor would he risk turning his back on her. A lesson Brendol was about to learn the hard way.

“I…” CD-0922 hesitated, then locked his eyes with Armitage and continued. “I don’t agree with the changes that Captain Phasma wants to make to the program.”

They had gone over that today, Brendol making a rare mid-shift visit to extol the virtues of Phasma’s ideas before he was called away again.

Armitage shook his head. “The Captain only wants to raise the scores for the older students, make the program more difficult for them. I thought we all agreed that it was a good goal. It will only make them stronger.”

“But it seems like she’s doing it at the expense of the students.” CD-0922 blinked, then looked away. “I saw her with a group of the oldest today. She drove them to nearly killing one another. She almost killed one herself.”

Phasma _had_  killed a student today. Armitage was surprised that CD-0922 had missed that. He must be truly upset about the changes. Armitage debated telling CD-0922 about the death. He would be devastated. He decided to deliver the bigger blow instead.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” Armitage said softly, leaning forward and feigning concern for CD-0922, letting his expression soften, drawing his palms along the tops of his thighs. “We’re about to split the program and make the training period longer, so the graduates are older. Captain Phasma will be taking all the students over 13 with her to the _Finalizer_  and commencing the advanced training program there, along with most of the specialty programs for the adult soldiers to raise the quality of our force.”

Armitage pushed down his pleasure at the look of shock and betrayal on CD-0922’s face. Not telling CD-0922 this at their meeting today had been Brendol’s idea, an unusually cruel one coming from him. Armitage had agreed, and had immediately begun to determine the most devastating way to tell CD-0922 later.

“But Ar-” CD-0922’s mouth snapped shut on Armitage’s name. He set his helmet down to gesture angrily with his hands. He must really be upset - Armitage recognized these as behaviors from Jakku that had long been programmed out of him. Armitage's fingers went to his hair, and he pulled at it idly, thoughtlessly.

“She doesn’t _know_  them. She has no idea what they can do, what they’re capable of. How can she be expected to train them, when she barely knows our methods?”

“Captain Phasma’s a fast learner. You know that.” Armitage shifted, spreading his legs apart further, letting the robe slide off one thigh completely. The collar shifted, exposing a sliver of bare chest. He thought about leaning back, lounging indifferently during this very serious conversation that affected CD-0922’s life’s work. Perhaps in a moment. “The Captain’s learned our methods, and everything there is to know about our Troopers. And she knows how to fight. I’m designing the curriculum with her. I think it’s a great opportunity.”

He thought about name-dropping Brendol and confirming that he’d given the program his approval as well, but couldn’t decide if it would be a knife in CD-0922’s side or if it would sound like Armitage’s authority wasn’t sufficient. He erred on the side of silence.

CD-0922 knew better than to argue, but Armitage had utterly wrecked him. The big man fairly wilted in that red armor he was so proud of. He had every right to be proud of it, but the sight of it still made Armitage’s blood boil. Authorizing Phasma's armor had also been a balm for that particular incident.

Armitage stood and walked across the room, feeling the robe sway softly against his bare calves.  He stopped and clapped a hand on CD-0922's shoulder, glancing down briefly to confirm that he’d left a greasy handprint. “I’m going to split my operations between the _Finalizer_  and _Absolution_ , put myself on a two-week cycle between the ships. I wish I could bring you with me all the time, I rather like having you as my personal guard. You know that, of course. I’m pleased my father has been leaving you free so often lately.”

And that was the perfect fatal strike. CD-0922 looked to be near a breakdown at the reminder that Brendol had forsaken him as a personal guard in favor of Phasma. Armitage had been there to see him tell CD-0922, and it had been one of the sweetest experiences in his life. He hadn’t failed to keep CD-0922 by his side since. He knew the man loathed him, and he suspected CD-0922 had no idea of all the tiny revenges Armitage took against him. He had tried justifying bringing CD-0922 with him to Phasma's ship, to see Phasma's authority first-hand.  He could do it, but not as often as he liked.  CD-0922 did have an important role aboard the _Absolution._

Armitage had adjusted CD-0922's role in his own life many times over the years, enjoying the shift to having the man on his own terms. He changed CD-0922's schedule and modified his own behaviors depending on what he wanted the other to witness and how often he was stationed on the _Absolution_. He had continued to keep him on full insomnia shifts whenever possible, which was such a habit now that neither of them noticed, so it almost wasn’t worth it. Armitage was afraid he’d gotten too used to sleeping with CD-0922 on guard, and he knew the other man took brief rests shifts when Armitage wouldn’t notice, though whether this was because he suspected Armitage was doing this out of spite or because he felt like it was a part of his good soldier routine, he really couldn’t tell.

As Armitage finished his Officer’s training, the chances to get CD-0922 to himself were rare. But his time on the _Absolution_  had increased the closer he came to outgrowing whatever secondary Officer’s training programs Brendol could come up with, and his time with CD-0922 had increased as Brendol’s disillusion with the other man grew. Brendol had finally realized that the man was a brainless tool. A perfect soldier, true, and an excellent instructor, but only able to do what he’d been programmed to do.

And he’d been programmed to take orders. He would sit and watch Armitage do anything. So, as a teen, Armitage took any opportunity to let the man into his rooms and watch him take a sloppy, expensive meal that no Trooper would ever be permitted to eat.  These meals were often too rich for Armitage, who was still not used to anything but the most basic rations.  There was part of him that was infuriated by the waste as he threw them up later, hiding his sickness from CD-0922, but he always forgot the feeling when the opportunity came up again. He watched forbidden holodramas, pulled up on all the screens with the sound as loud as it could go. He also enjoyed lounging around reading in his robe. There was a part of Armitage that was dying to take it farther. Would CD-0922 press his uniform, if Armitage ordered him to do it? Would he stand here for days at Armitage’s side, forbidden from bathing? And what would he stand to watch Armitage do? He knew CD-0922 was soft, and partial to the children. Would he say anything, react at all, if Armitage called one up and failed them right in front of him?

But Armitage wasn’t cruel, and he was content to have CD-0922 skip a rest shift in favor of watching Armitage act like a slob in private. He’d grown used to the other man in his rooms, and he’d also developed a taste for the activities he’d feigned in front of him so frequently over the years. Now CD-0922 was just a witness to his private life, his routine and small excesses, and neither of them noticed anymore. Most of Armitage’s vengeance came on days like these, when he could pile on the bad news about Phasma and Brendol.

Armitage ran a finger over the rough stubble on CD-0922’s exposed cheek, then took in the bags under his eyes, his tightly clenched jaw, his absolute and utter distress.

“His loss. You know your importance, CD-0922. My father is a fool for forgetting it.”

Perhaps it had been too sentimental. Armitage hadn’t meant it that way, but he knew the man needed to hear some praise, or he’d start to doubt himself. He could tell by looking, however, that praise from 'little Armitage' had very little effect, especially in the wake of such devastating news.

Armitage turned and walked away, toward his bed. It was late, and CD-0922 had hours of watching Armitage sleep ahead of him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Finally_ some Kylo Ren. Sort of. I promise he gets a lot of time in the next chapter.
> 
> Also, I realized I forgot to cover what actually happened to Brendol Hux. His death in the _Phasma_ novel is fairly stunning, and I'm sticking it in the end notes for anyone who didn't read the novel.
> 
> Otherwise, there's some drunkenness and masturbation towards the end. Most of the explicit content will be in the next chapter.

**19 ABY…**

 

Armitage stood at sharp attention, turned out well for one of the first times in his life. He was subtly eyeing CD-0922 at his side, also standing at attention in his full trooper armor, helmet under an arm.

The General had called them both together, and it was obvious that he was very proud of himself for whatever announcement he was going to make. Part of Armitage worried that it would be something to do with CD-0922. But the Trooper had done nothing lately. CD-0922 had fully taken over running the training program on the _Absolution_ , and it was going well, but they’d had no major breakthroughs since he started the position last year.

Armitage had graduated Officer’s Training with top marks two days ago. It was the first real class of graduates - some of the older cadets had been pulled out of training as the First Order established itself and needed more bodies, but all the most promising students were held back in the Officer’s Academy, and this was their first full graduating class. Armitage was the best student.

He had assumed the General had called him to officially assign him to the _Absolution_  and the Trooper program. But he wasn’t clear on why CD-0922 was here. Perhaps the General had a new strategy for the two of them working together? While Armitage was still peerless at reading people and giving orders, he could admit that CD-0922 was better at forming the kind of bond that the young recruits needed. Perhaps the General had an idea about the two of them working together to hasten the programming process.

“CD-0922,” the General began, using the warm, cajoling tone that was for new planet populations, children, and CD-0922. Never Armitage. “Your work with the program continues to be superb. You know how I feel about all the children we help, who in turn make it possible for us to continue to aid planets just like theirs. Nobody has been more instrumental in building the program than you, and it is the firm foundation of the entire First Order. I thought it was well past time that we gave special recognition to a singular soldier such as yourself.”

The General put a hand out to gesture to a low table, which held an enormous, waist high box wrapped in a kind of ostentatious gold foil that shone under the cold fluorescents of the office attached to the Hux suite. Armitage and CD-0922 gave each other a quick confused glance, and when they both looked at the General, the man kept his eyes on CD-0922 and nodded warmly, gesturing to the box.

“Come, son. You’ve earned this.”

The ‘son’ was how the General usually addressed the children, but it always felt like a slap in the face to Armitage, who was never called as such except when the General was forced to, in formal gatherings that required him to give a speech about how proud he was of Armitage and other bright young officers. He’d given such a speech at the graduation ceremony, in front of thousands of Trooper and Officer cadets, about how singular Armitage was. Armitage almost believed that he was sincere.

It was always a particular insult when he called CD-0922 that, because it felt true, that his father might really want or believe that it was so. No matter how many times Armitage told himself not to care, such things still made him furious. He pushed it down. There would be a day where it wouldn’t matter. Now, in fact. He was an adult, on his proper career path. The General could be professional and civil, and he wouldn’t dare bully Armitage now.

CD-0922 gave Armitage a neutral, measured look, and Armitage stayed at attention as the other man walked forward to the box, set his helmet down next to it, and removed the lid. Joy, a happiness Armitage rarely saw on the faces of anyone in the First Order, lit his face, and even the General looked pleased at his reaction.

“It’s…” CD-0922 was breathless as he removed a helmet, a perfect red replica of a Stormtrooper helmet. He looked at the General adoringly. “It’s amazing.” He lifted out a greave, then the chest plate, setting them reverently down on the table around the box. All were the same deep, uniform red. He stared in disbelief for a few more moments, then turned to the General again.

“Can I wear it now?”

To Armitage’s surprise, the General chuckled. He normally only did so when he was trying to ingratiate himself or put on a show for someone, which had long ago become pointless in front of Armitage and CD-0922.

Armitage was immediately furious, pushed down with the cold hand of long-practiced control. He knew exactly what was happening.

“It’s yours, try it on. It’s a symbol of how exceptional you are, how much you mean to the program. It lets everyone know who the leader is.”

The General reached past CD-0922 and into the box, removing something else. “There’s this, too.”

CD-0922 fingered the material, taking it from the General and holding it up. Confusion crossed his face, and he turned back to the General. “I don’t understand, sir. What’s this?”

The General chuckled again, pulling at the edge. “It’s an armorweave cloak. It’s meant to set you apart as a Captain. The only one we have among the troopers.”

“Sir?” CD-0922’s voice rose nearly an octave as he turned to the General, shocked.

Armitage was shocked, too. This was unprecedented. Insulting.

“Wear it with pride.” The General clapped him on the shoulder again, and actually _winked_. “Try it on in here, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take it back until tomorrow. I’ll give it to you again in a promotion ceremony. We’ll broadcast to every Trooper in the Order, so that everyone can know the truth of your new rank.”

As Armitage watched the warm, joyous exchange between the two of them, he felt hot humiliation well up. He thought he was well past this, the burning behind his eyes, but the General always managed to surprise him. Armitage understood he was meant to see this, and that there would be no acknowledgment for his own accomplishments today. That had occurred, as scheduled, in front of ten thousand soldiers of the First Order, but had just been a bit of necessary pageantry for the General.

As CD-0922 began removing the white plastoid pieces of his Stormtrooper armor, Armitage decided he'd had enough.

“ _Sir_.” Heavily sarcastic. He controlled his tongue to get the question out in a bland voice. “If you won’t be needing me for anything else?”

CD-0922 turned to him, surprised, having obviously forgotten that Armitage was there, and his face flushed. The General’s face - fat, aged, sunburned for some reason, folded in disapproval.

“I called you here for a reason, _Sergeant_.” Special emphasis on the rank that Armitage had been awarded on graduation. Armitage felt his palms sweat inside his gloves, and he put his hands behind his back and pulled at the black cuff that held his new rank insignia. There had been only four graduates in his class that hadn’t been assigned as squad leaders, only four that had been given a real rank upon graduation. He had been so proud.

He was also inordinately pleased with the way he looked in his new uniform. He’d never had one that fit him before. The cadet uniforms had first been Imperial leftovers, and when they could afford new ones, they’d always been fitted to the older, larger children. Armitage had worn some other child’s uniform his entire life. They’d been threadbare and shabby most of the time. Because of his build, the cuffs had been too short, or it had been too big at the waist, hips, and shoulders. His boots had almost always been a size too small.

Before his graduation ceremony, he had been given two bespoke sergeant uniforms. He’d slept in one the night before, hating himself. He’d changed into the other this morning, letting himself take the time to admire his appearance in the mirror. He looked good. Very good. He looked like someone in control, someone who could give orders. He looked like the person he imagined himself to be. Not just a ragged student with aspirations and delusions.

The General hadn’t given him the uniforms. But he’d given one to CD-0922. A much more expensive, unique one.

The General turned, giving another warm look to CD-0922. “Captain, when you are ready to confer with the Sergeant, I believe the two of you can work on the new simulations for integrating the young Officers with the much more experienced troops.” With a final sneer for Armitage, the General swept past him.

Was he… did he imply that _Armitage was to took orders from CD-0922_? That wasn’t how such things worked. Officers gave orders. Troopers obeyed. It was one of the core parts of the programming for both men. What was the General saying? 

It was a violation. He was sure that CD-0922 would still follow any order that he gave. But.

“You’ll be stationed here, working closely with Captain Cardinal,” the General instructed him. “Be sure you follow all his orders.”

“Cardinal?” CD-0922 asked, still looking rather dumbfounded by all this. Armitage could tell, because the man was lousy at controlling his expressions. Unlike Armitage. Unlike any other officer that had gone through proper training.

“Of course! We want you to have a name, rather than a number. Just one more thing that will make you special.”

The General smiled one more time over his shoulder, then the doors closed behind him.

Armitage turned toward CD-0922, filled with loathing. He could feel his cheeks heat, a reaction he had trained himself out of. He could always control his reactions, he was proud of his control, but not in this moment. Now, he was falling apart. After a few seconds of silence where CD-0922 awkwardly turned away and continued removing his armor, Armitage spoke.

“Did you tell him?”

CD-0922 paused, turning back toward Armitage, looking genuinely uncomfortable, obviously dreading the conversation. He set one of his new red gauntlets gently on the table before answering. The table was a steel conference table with no monitors mounted into the surface, and Armitage’s mood soured deeper when he saw the new suit of armor reflected in the pristine surface, doubling it.

“Tell him what?”

Armitage sneered, and he hated that it was his father’s expression, and that he looked so much like him. A thinner Brendol. He wondered if they called him that behind his back. He tightened his fists inside his gloves. “Don’t be stupid, I credit you with at least that much, if not the ability to reason for yourself. Did you tell him what I order you to do when he’s gone?”

CD-0922 went from confused to annoyed, and turned back to his armor. “What, did I tell Brendol that you keep me up nights and taunt me with whatever food you feel like eating? Then pretend like you’re not miserably sick from it later? No.” He picked up one of the red armored boots and studied it, cutting his eyes over to Armitage.

“It’s too petty, Armitage. Do you really think that I’d tattle to your father that you stuffed your face because you’re self-conscious about your weight, and ordered me around because he loves me better?”

And that really was too much, so Armitage stepped forward, grabbed the new red helmet off the table, and hit CD-0922 across the face with it so hard that it dented the surface and sent a fine spray of blood all over the Hux suite office, Armitage’s new sergeant uniform, and CD-0922’s old and new armor alike. The red armor hid it well, he noticed cooly. He noted that the blush had disappeared from his face, he felt himself in control. It had been a very precise action, and upon reflection, he was sure it was not an impulse. He would do it again. It was the right decision.

CD-0922 fell to his knees, then to his side on the floor, blinking and dazed. Armitage dropped the helmet and watched him flinch as the weight of it struck his side before making a hollow, heavy sound when it hit the floor. He had split CD-0922’s lip, something he’d wanted to do so badly as a child. A wave of satisfaction so powerful washed over him that it nearly made him weak.

CD-0922 took only a moment to gather himself, and he blinked up at Armitage, scowling through the wash of blood on his face. Armitage kept his own face impassive and took a step back. He decided to show his contempt, to make it plain what his opinion of CD-0922 was, but he knew full well what CD-0922 was capable of in battle. He was the best soldier in the First Order, and Armitage had no blaster if he snapped. Armitage was good at the fighting sims though, best in the academy, and he knew all of CD-0922’s weaknesses from the countless hours of training sims he’d reviewed with the man as a test subject. He would easily outsmart him and bring him down in a fight.

Still, he felt a faint ache in his jaw where Archex had struck him repeatedly during their sessions together all those years ago. He unclenched his teeth. That’s all it was.

Anyway, he wouldn’t fight back. He was just Archex, and Armitage knew he would take much more of this before he would break.

“What was the _point_  of that, Armitage? At the very least, I could report you for assaulting a _superior officer._ ” The words dripped poison off his tongue, and they struck home as intended, though Armitage refused to show it. “You’d be court-marshaled, and demoted.”

Then CD-0922 stood and got into Armitage’s personal space. “It would ruin you, and that would be a waste.” He ran a finger along Armitage’s high cheekbone, then along the jaw that he'd broken so many years ago, and Armitage knew he wanted badly to do it again. He let CD-0922 touch him, keeping his sneer and contempt visible. “But I would rather beat you within an inch of your life, just like the old days.” CD-0922 cocked his head, and licked the blood from his lips. “You’d have to show up with a beaten face, and you could never tell anyone what happened.” CD-0922’s hand moved down to Armitage’s bicep, and squeezed it through the uniform, and his voice got quiet. “Officer’s Training has made you soft. It would be so easy.”

Armitage took a step back, and then another. He turned and hit the door release, opening it.

“Put on your armor. I’ll meet you tomorrow to discuss the sims, _Captain_.”

He wasn’t running away, and it wasn’t a strategic retreat. But all the same, Armitage hadn’t left with the upper hand. CD-0922 had let him leave. He didn’t want revenge for what Armitage had done, and Armitage felt like his vengeance was still not enough. It wouldn't be enough if he hit CD-0922 like that every day for the rest of their lives.

He knew that CD-0922 had let him walk away out of pity, and the knowledge burned. Armitage also knew that CD-0922 understood what the General was doing to them, had done to them.

Armitage hated it.

 

* * *

 

  
**29 ABY…**

 

 

 

Armitage entered the Hux suite (singular, he was the only Hux now) and began pacing in agitation. He darted a quick, annoyed glance at Cardinal, who followed him in and locked the doors behind himself. He hadn’t had the pleasure of listening to the K4 Protocol Droid delay Cardinal in the outer office, which never stopped feeling like a victory, even after all these years. The absence of the small comfort only irritated him more.

Armitage paused and took a moment to collect himself. He rarely let his emotions get the better of him these days, even in private, but he might as well be by himself for all Cardinal would mention it to anyone. He turned and spoke to the Trooper, for lack of any other release.

“Had you met him before? The Supreme Leader?”

“Yes. Brendol used to take me when he first began courting the Order.”

Armitage turned briefly and let the contempt show on his face before he suppressed it. It felt good not to have to hide it from Cardinal. But he turned back, not having the stomach to look at Cardinal’s red, featureless helmet and his flawless attention stance. “Pity. I was hoping to give you a new experience.”

“I’m sure you were.”

Armitage had learned to ignore Cardinal’s borderline insubordination long ago. It no longer affected him, especially after the events of this week. Cardinal was quite insignificant now, except where he contributed as an instructor to the young Trooper recruits.

He began pacing again, unable to calm down. Annoyed with himself now for his lack of control, he made his way over to Brendol’s liquor cabinet and decided to pour himself something sweet. Brandy, from Chandrila. Old and very rare, in this part of space. Appropriate for the occasion, really. He deserved it.

“I deserve it,” he said aloud, not bothering to turn around, not really talking to Cardinal. It would be embarrassing if he was, anyway. He poured with a steady hand into a cut crystal glass from Parn, some gift to Brendol from the puppet government of the subjugated native population. It had an engraved pattern of lace-like circles worked along the sides. It was tacky, something Armitage would have to replace later.

He was surprised when Cardinal offered a sympathetic answer in return. “You do. It’s a shame it had to come at the expense of your father’s life.”

Armitage turned around, sipping from the glass and studying the faceless soldier with new interest. He hadn’t asked Cardinal to remove his helmet in a long time. Tonight was not the night. He did not need to find out how the other man felt about Brendol. He knew well enough.

He let the taste of the brandy burn across his tongue. He didn’t often drink, and though he’d heard that brandy was sweet, it simply tasted like alcohol to him. He swallowed the heat and let it bloom in his stomach before responding.

“The army needs only one General.”

“And you were the natural choice, I agree. You’ve been with the program your whole life. No other officer works with the Troopers like you do, knows the whole force so well. You’ve been working with me to make the program the best it can be, to bring out the strength in every recruit. And you care so much about the children, those new recruits. Your words mean the world to them when they’re new.” Cardinal paused, and continued. “But you would have been a fine choice if Brendol had lived another thirty years, too.”

Armitage sneered. “He wouldn’t have. His habits would have killed him eventually.”

Cardinal bowed his head. “One must have. Have they…” his voice grew plaintive and anguished, even through the helmet. “Have they figured out how he died yet?”

Armitage raised the glass and drank again, telling himself he was enjoying the alcohol and letting the imitation of its appreciation mask his thoughts. One of Brendol’s bad habits _had_  killed him, though he himself had implied it to be a failure of his health to anyone who would listen. Which wasn’t hard to believe. He’d been a sharp-tongued, unpleasant slob in terrible shape for the last two years of his life, hardly fit to lead the grand Army of the First Order.

But it had been a failure of judgment that had cost him his life, the viper he hadn’t realized he clutched to his bosom. Armitage knew better than to let Phasma anywhere near himself, and made a mental note to get toxin scans of all the fauna from all the planets she’d ever set foot on, as well as any future First Order occupied planets that she traveled to, just to be certain. He also knew how to play Phasma, to make her think he was as foolish as his father. He was not. They worked well together that way, and she would continue to be a valuable resource while she assumed she had the upper hand and an easy way out.

“No, they still haven’t found an official cause of death.” Which was true, and an easy truth to give Cardinal. Armitage turned and set his empty glass back down on the Imperial-era drink service cabinet, debating whether to fill it again. He stripped off his hat, laying it on the bar top next to the glass. Not satisfied, still restless and too full of energy, he then removed his coat and looked at it.

It was still black, with the gray General stripes on the sleeve. Brendol’s coat, and not. Enormous, but also cut to fit Armitage and not Brendol. He’d had Brendol’s clothes and uniforms burned, had all his furniture in the suites on the _Absolution_ , the _Finalizer_ , and the _Equity_  moved out and replaced.

He hated that every time he got a new uniform, it reminded him of his first official uniform. That sergeant’s uniform, the first one that had been tailored to _fit him_. Inevitably, he thought not of his Academy graduation ceremony, but of that humiliating private meeting with Cardinal and Brendol the next day. He wanted the memory to die, and it would not. This would be the last uniform he would wear, so he would never have to think about it again after today.

Armitage almost jumped when Cardinal uncharacteristically interrupted his contemplations again. Cardinal rarely spoke unless spoken to, and even then, not often.

“Is there… anything you’ll miss about him?” It came out small, even with the amplification module in his helmet.

Armitage turned to him, stomping up and getting in his personal space, knowing he was too agitated, but not caring, because it was _just Cardinal_.

“’Is there anything I’ll miss about him?’” he asked, mockingly, in a sing-song imitation of Cardinal’s rough Jakku accent, one he generally kept hidden. “Of course. I’ll miss the way he claimed credit for my accomplishments, without a word to me about them. I’ll miss the way he completely lost interest in the Stormtrooper program after handing it over to me without a second thought. I’ll miss the way he-” He clamped his jaw shut, breathing hard through his nose, feeling the heat on his face. He didn’t need to carry on like this. It was too little control, even in private. He had been drinking, of course, which had probably loosened his tongue. But that was an excuse, and excuses were for the weak. He’d had only one glass.

When he couldn’t successfully push his fury back down beneath his iron control, he decided to give himself a reason for it. He stomped back over and poured himself another drink, hands shaking, downing the liquor in one swallow without tasting it, letting it hit his stomach and spread its feeling of sickness through his body.

“Your speech was very moving,” Cardinal added behind him. “You eulogized him well. I had several of the Lieutenants approach me after and offer their condolences, hoping I could pass them along to you.”

Armitage barked out a laugh and didn’t look at Cardinal. “You didn’t pass them along.”

“I knew you wouldn’t want them.” He paused. “I knew you’d want the praise about your speech, though.”

Armitage spun again. “You are missing the _theme_  of tonight, Cardinal. Brendol’s memorial service, my announcement, that was two days ago. Today? What we just came from? That was my promotion to General.” He pointed to the red plate in the center of Cardinal’s chest. “ _That_ is what I’m celebrating.”

“It seems like it’s still the death of your father, Armitage.”

A corner of his mouth twitched up. “And maybe you’re right.”

He thought about dismissing Cardinal, who might be the one person legitimately grieved by Brendol’s passing. He really didn’t want to deal with that. But Cardinal was a good soldier, and would hold it in. He began pacing again, still too restless, still unable to find his control and focus, unable to move on with his evening. He peeled his gloves off and tossed them away, enjoying making a mess of Brendol’s rooms, _his rooms now_. He was the new Hux, the better Hux, the controlled and healthy and young and brilliant Hux.

He paced more, avoiding having to look at Cardinal and his red armor and the memory of his Academy graduation, of the two years it took him to gain his own Captain’s rank.

Annoyed, agitated, feeling like Brendol was haunting him, he removed his belt and stripped off his tunic, tossing both to the floor as he made his way back to the drink service cabinet and poured himself more brandy for no real reason. He pictured himself in his white undershirt and black suspenders, baggy officer’s pants and regulation-shiny boots. He didn’t know if he liked the mental image or not. But only Cardinal would ever see it. He hated the taste of the brandy, he decided as he drank more. That was easier than trying to decide if he needed to put his tunic back on. He took another swallow before rounding on Cardinal again.

“It’s _me_  the Supreme Leader wants. Me he’s always conferred with. Brendol was a relic, but I’m the future of the First Order. He told me I would take my rightful place soon. He sees the future.”

Armitage didn’t believe the last part, didn’t really believe that the Force was real or in the rumors that the Supreme Leader was a practitioner of the mystical Jedi powers. But it sounded right, and Cardinal might believe it.

“He doesn’t see the future.” Cardinal’s simple dismissal resonated with Armitage in a way he didn’t like. “If he did, he would have avoided whatever accident nearly took his life.”

True enough, the Supreme Leader had obviously been through some sort of hideous trial. Armitage toasted Cardinal, then drained the glass again, deciding to be contrary. “Maybe it was the Force that saved his life.”

When Cardinal had nothing to say to this, Armitage walked into his bedroom, still the same one he’d had since childhood. The suite also contained a third bedroom that had never been used, along with Brendol’s larger quarters. Armitage was still undecided if he wanted to relocate to there. Among other reasons, he didn’t need the space, and didn’t like the idea of replacing Brendol in all things.

He sat on the edge of his childhood bed, improved with a real mattress and better sheets over the years, and stared at the wall for a full minute, trying to decide on a task to settle on this evening. He grabbed a datapad off his bedside table and contemplated the First Order logo glowing red on its lockscreen, the request for his thumbprint popping up.

He couldn’t bring himself to unlock it, he would likely only make a mess of anything he attempted right now. He would have to write this evening off as an uncharacteristic disturbance in his routine. He was only fit to talk to Cardinal until he drank himself to sleep. In the morning, his rank would be just as real, and he would have a more level head. But tonight, it was tied up in Brendol’s death, and he was unsettled by that. He was also being haunted by the scarred visage of the Supreme Leader who could see the future, and the idea of the First Order being the better, smarter, more versatile version of something older.

He tossed the datapad on the black silk sheets and stripped clumsily out of the rest of his uniform. He was unable to go against his programmed habits while this drunk, so he gathered up all the pieces of his uniform and deposited them into the ‘fresher clothes press, positioning his boots against the wall by the door, doing it all while completely naked.

He straightened and turned to look at Cardinal. He had seen Armitage nude many times over the years, and Armitage had seen him, when they were children. There was no taboo on nudity in the First Order, as they had all grown up in close quarters together, privacy a luxury that they could not afford until much later. If he wasn’t wearing a full uniform, some or nothing made little difference. Though he wouldn’t conscience being seen that way by anyone aside from Cardinal, not even Brendol when he was alive.

And Cardinal had seen him plenty of times in a robe. In fact, he wore little else when he forced the other man to stay awake through his rest cycles, depriving him of sleep and seeing what effect it had on his work the next day. He’d discovered initially that Cardinal could go four days without before it started to show through the armor, and that interval had grown longer over the years as Armitage forced their game on him, again and again.

He thought about his robe, hanging on its hook in its closet, and he almost turned back to grab it. But instead, he pulled on his General’s greatcoat, leaving it open, and he poured himself another helping of brandy. Drinking it, still hating the taste, he eyed his command cap and snatched it off the top of the drink counter, canting it on his head. Satisfied with his attire, he walked across the room and took a seat on his new ice blue couch. It was the first new item after Armitage had incinerated all of Brendol’s clothes. He let the stiff coat fall open to either side of him as he leaned back and stared, squinting, from under the brim of his cap.

“Do you like this couch, Cardinal?”

“The color is ugly. It doesn’t match the rest of the room.”

Armitage laughed, and he knew now that the brandy was getting to him. “I chose it to stand out.”

“It doesn’t look comfortable.”

Armitage cocked his head. “I picked the uncomfortable one. Do you know why I got a new couch?”

“I assumed you didn’t want the reminder of your father.”

He snorted, and took another drink of brandy, overestimating the tilt of the glass and spilling some down his chin. He looked at where it dribbled onto his bare chest, swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked back at Cardinal. “I will be wearing a reminder of my father from now on, though I got rid of any clothing he touched that might have been associated with his rank. I will be counting the days until I can hear ‘General Hux’ and not wonder if they think of my father when they say it. There will be many. _I_  will be thinking of my father when they say it for the foreseeable future.” He paused, looked down at the brandy on his chest again. “No, it was not as sentimental as that.”

With an effort he found annoying, he focused on Cardinal, much more serious this time.

“Were you ever witness to my father’s… more personal liaisons?”

Cardinal shifted uncomfortably. “The company he kept. No. I stayed in the outer office when I was on escort duty. He said he could look after himself well enough.” He paused, and seemed unable to stop himself. “I could hear them,” he added, a note of wonder in his voice. “I would see them both come back out, as if nothing had happened.”

Armitage sneered. “Exactly. All his women. The ones who believed he thought with his dick.” He held his glass out. “He did not. One of the things I can honestly say I admired about him. He exploited that belief for all it was worth.” He tipped the glass down his throat, still hating the brandy, but now numb enough to not feel it burn through him. He was no longer feeling much of anything other than rage. He stood and retrieved the bottle, collapsing back on the couch, letting the coat fall open again and bare his nudity to Cardinal.

“I changed the couch. And the bed in the master suite, though I am still not using it. I did not wish to think of who Brendol had across them.”

Cardinal was silent for a few moments.

“Major Chase. Major Yorra. Lieutenant Pel. Captain Ho-burra. Admiral Sy-”

“ _Enough_.”

As drunk as he was, Armitage could not parse whether Cardinal’s list was due to his own stunned remembrances or if he was trying to ruin the suite for Armitage. Perhaps Armitage gave him too much credit. His rage abated into apathy soon enough, and he took another drink of brandy from the bottle to help it along.

They sat in silence for several long moments, Armitage wondering if this was enough to let him sleep tonight, and he surprised himself by breaking it.

“Do you have lovers of your own?” Armitage leaned forward, suddenly more awake. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before, and suddenly, it was very important.

“Most of my day is spent teaching and reviewing training data. I don’t have time for that.”

Armitage rolled his eyes. “You could find time for it. I’m not stupid.”

“Yes, in the abundant free time I have, when you call me up to your rooms to stand here and do nothing.”

“Answer the question.” Armitage made it more of an order, impressed that it came out as such after so much brandy. He really was good.

Cardinal was silent long enough that Armitage thought he might not answer. And then he did.

“No. I’ve never had a lover.”

“Neither have I.”

It was not a confession he would have made at any other time, to any other person, but this was Cardinal, and Cardinal had just admitted the same.

“Why haven’t you had a lover? You were the most celebrated soldier in the First Order. Certainly your fame made others want to get close to you. And you stand out like a target.” Armitage gestured sloppily to Cardinal’s height in illustration, meaning his armor.

“I had no desire.” The answer was fast, and didn’t sound defensive through his helmet. Armitage suddenly wished he had made Cardinal remove the helmet.

“Do you have any friends?”

“Do you?”

Armitage leaned back in the couch, spreading his legs lazily. “I don’t let people close.”

“But you know how to make them feel like they are. I’ve seen it. I’ve also seen you flirting with other officers.” Cardinal paused to consider his next statement, and continued. This was by far the most personal conversation the two of them had had since knowing each other, but it was a strange evening. Armitage wondered if Cardinal assumed he was too drunk to remember this later. He might be.

“I don’t believe you’ve never had a lover.”

Armitage smiled cruelly. “Years of watching my father taught me to use the offer as a bargaining tool. I’m not foolish enough to give them what they want.”

“You could. You’re charismatic, and know all the right words. And you’re better-looking than your father.”

Armitage barked a bitter laugh. “Your confidence is bracing.” He thought about the Officer’s Academy, and the groups, alliances, and power plays that had all hinged on sexual relationships. He’d learned how to use people that way, but vowed never to be used himself. People made bad decisions when they let sex get the better of them. He’d seen it.

“I have no desire either,” he concluded flatly, and took another drink of the nearly-diminished brandy.

Cardinal shook his head. “Look at you. Sulking in your father’s suite, one of three that you own, one each on the three main battleships in the fleet. You’ve just been promoted to the head of the army and personally commended by Supreme Leader Snoke. You had tens of thousands of people bowing to you today. You’re an officer, Brendol’s son, who had every opportunity and advantage growing up. And here you sit in your room, completely drunk on whatever exotic drink you’ve decided you deserve and trying to ask me about my sex life. You have _everything_.” The anger cut through his vocoder, and Armitage could not recall seeing this much emotion from Cardinal since they were children and the latter was bashing his face in over and over again.

“’Spoiled little Armitage Hux.’” Armitage imitated Archex’s rough Jakku accent again, repeating a taunt he’d used when Armitage’s father wasn’t around. “Is that what you mean?”

“ _Yes_.”

Hux leaned his head back against the uncomfortable back of the couch, letting his hat fall over most of his vision as he once again considered Cardinal through narrowed eyes.

“What was it like, when you simply had to do everything right in your classes and were praised to the top of the order?”

“Oh please. I worked hard, and you know it. I had to earn my position, unlike you.”

“Ah. And you think I didn’t work hard. That my father gave me everything I have.” He leaned forward, removing his hat and feeling his coat slide down his shoulders. “Do you think my father gave it up willingly? His legacy? That he let me have all of it as a birthright? Do you think he believed that there was anyone that could replace him?”

To this, Cardinal said nothing, because the answer was understood between them. Armitage continued.

“You came from that desert planet. You struggled to survive against the elements and a lack of food and resources. Brendol and I fled Arkanis in front of a war where we would have been executed if we had been captured.”

Armitage had always wondered about this. The First Order would never waste a child like that. It was widely believed that the Resistance liked to snuff out perceived flaws at the source. Would they actually execute a child who could be made useful? Armitage wondered.

“After Jakku, you know the Order didn’t have enough to go around. We suffered together, with not enough food and those rags for clothes and the lack of medical supplies and tech and _oxygen_.” That had been a memorable experience, when the HVAC and air scrubbers had broken down on part of the _Eclipse_. They’d had to evacuate over half the ship, and leave it that way for three months until enough droids could be stolen to repair it.

“We had the same lifestyle, the same classes, all the same training. Except combat training. My father realized he could have you beat me instead of doing it himself, so my combat training was never very effective. And then I moved on to the Officer’s Academy. Do you think the other children in the Officer’s Academy treated ‘Cadet Hux’ with deference and respect, and not as a target to be taken down at their earliest convenience for advancement?”

When Cardinal remained silent, Armitage leaned forward, and let more out than he wished, even when drunk.

“Do you remember my father’s first group of cadets? The ones that came with us from Jakku?”

The question was soft and even. Armitage thought that Cardinal wasn’t going to respond. Armitage wondered if he did remember. His interaction with them would have been limited, but all the Jakku recruits had seen those cadets, at least briefly. Those cadets had been used to round up some of the more resistant recruits. One sight would have been memorable, Armitage thought. It had been over twenty years, he had been so young, and he still remembered.

Cardinal gave a miniscule nod. Cardinal remembered, too.

“ _I was given the same programming_. I survived it.”

He leaned back, trying to take another drink from the bottle and finding it empty. When he caught a glance at the General’s stripes on his sleeve, he tossed the bottle away lazily, hearing it land with a heavy _clink_  somewhere behind him.

“That’s fine. He probably shared that brandy with all his women anyway.”

He laid back again, closing his eyes and trying to think of nothing. But he was surrounded by the ghost of his dead father, and his wrath at being replaced left Armitage too disturbed to sleep, even now.

He reached down between his legs and fingered his limp cock delicately. He cracked one eye open.

“Do you ever do this?”

“Do _what?_ ” Cardinal asked, modulated tone somehow derisive. “Get drunk and fondle myself until I pass out? No.”

Armitage closed his eyes again. “I don’t either. But here we are, on a day of new beginnings.”

Hux was drunk, and he had never been particularly good at stroking himself to completion even when sober. He could never quite get himself to the right place, or find the right fantasy. Whenever he dutifully tried to picture someone he thought should be attractive enough to masturbate to, their face slipped away from his mind. There was really just the one thing that Hux found stirring, and that was power.

“Describe the ceremony to me.”

Armitage heard a staticky noise in response. “You were there.”

“That was an order, CD-0933.” Armitage sat up and let his voice crack across the room, in a tone he knew left no room for argument. He gave orders better than anyone else in the Order, now that Brendol was dead, and he would be obeyed, even mostly naked, his vision blurry.

“Yes, _sir_ ” The tone was sarcastic, and the ‘sir’ given begrudgingly. But it was just Cardinal, and Armitage could let that slide.

“My full title. Say it.”

“General.”

“ _All of it_.”

“Yes sir, General Hux of the First Order, sir.”

Armitage felt his cock jump between his fingers, the first pulse of interest.

“Say it again.”

“ _General Hux_ , I’d rather continue.”

He felt his dick firming, felt the heat begin to creep over his skin, and he thumbed the head, making a sound of agreement.

“Do you want me to describe yesterday’s ceremony, or today’s?”

“Both. Start with yesterday’s.”

“Very well, General. We rode a shuttle to the _Supremacy_  together. Phasma was waiting for us in the docking bay when we arrived, along with a unit of Stormtroopers. She and I escorted you to the main meeting hall. It took about thirty minutes to reach Supreme Leader Snoke, and we had a rotating unit of Troopers accompanying us on the trip.”

Yes. The Troopers had taken shifts. Every ten minutes, they would call a halt, and another unit would flank them. Five in front, five behind, five on each side, with the silver and red warriors and Armitage Hux in the center, standing out amid the sea of white and durasteel gray like the dignitaries they were. Phasma and Cardinal both had those red Captain capes, and they looked like First Order banners streaming behind them.

Armitage licked his fingers, and began running them lazily up and down his shaft as Cardinal continued.

“When we reached the meeting hall, it… looked as if it could seat thousands. But it held only Snoke, in the center on a stone chair, flanked by three… warriors on each side of the platform.”

“The Knights of Ren.”

“Yes. I’d not seen them before.” He heard Cardinal’s hesitation, then heard his monotonous, sarcastic account continue. “Another was standing on the Supreme Leader’s right, directly beside him. The Supreme Leader was wearing gold raiment, with the knights in black and silver, armed with ostentatious weapons. The unit of Stormtroopers formed up behind us, and we went to the bottom of the platform. Phasma and I knelt, on your orders.”

They had. Armitage had laid a palm against both of their helmets on his way up to the raised dais, because they were so good and obedient, and looked so striking at this private ceremony. Armitage had not knelt in the presence of the Supreme Leader.

“I didn’t see what happened after that, I kept my head bowed.”

“Then repeat what you heard.”

Cardinal paused, made another staticky noise, and continued. “The Supreme Leader asked if you knew why you had been called to the _Supremacy_ , and you said you did. You were very confident. The Supreme Leader seemed to like that. He said he was giving you your father’s position, a promotion to General Hux and the leader of the Army of the First Order, effective immediately. That you were to arrange your own ceremony for it as you liked, and that you should have a new uniform waiting for you back on the _Absolution_  when you returned.”

Snoke had liked Armitage’s confidence. And Armitage had been sure that’s what it had been about. There was no way that Snoke was calling him in to offer condolences for Brendol’s death. And he doubted very much that Snoke cared about or even know of the manner of the old man’s passing, either.

What was more, Armitage remembered, stroking his cock fully hard and feeling it begin to leak from the tip, such high-ranking promotions to the few top leadership positions were normally voted on by the entirety of High Command. Not this one. Snoke had said it, and it was so. The High Command had no control over the army, and they would be forced to accept his promotion.

It had likely been expected, as no one else could have replaced Brendol. But still.

He ran his thumb through the bead of fluid leaking from his head, thin and sticky, and rubbed it slowly at first over the ridge between head and shaft, teasing the underside. He felt his skin heating all over, whether from this or the alcohol or the power trip, he was too drunk to know or care. He squeezed his shaft, then rubbed along the length again, savoring the smooth texture of his own skin.

“And then?”

“He told you that his apprentice was to accompany you back to the ship. The Knight of Ren. That he was to have co-command of one of your destroyers.”

“The _Finalizer_ ,” Hux hissed, remembering and stroking himself faster, harder, the friction burning pleasantly. Kylo Ren had stepped forward, and Armitage had realized he was meant to have his protection, that Kylo Ren was his to command, his own warrior to celebrate his promotion. He wondered if Snoke’s elite force had any special training that Armitage could use for the older Troopers on the _Finalizer_. He hoped so. He licked his palm and whetted it further with the meager amount of precome that had dribbled from his erection, moving his fingers down to massage the loose skin around his balls, feeling the heat and pressure build there, denying himself the more satisfying grip on his cock for the moment.

He’d have Phasma interrogate Kylo Ren immediately about how he was trained. She’d like that.

“And then?”

Another burst of static. “And then we left, much in the same manner. Kylo Ren accompanied us, and Phasma and I led with the unit of Stormtroopers around us, changing every ten minutes as before until we reached our ship. Kylo Ren departed with Phasma. You and I came back to the _Absolution_.”

Armitage reached back up to his cock, making his touch gentle once again, teasing and frustrating himself, feeling the tension build and tighten, feeling the blood rush to his face, the heat on his chest. He could feel his back sweating against the thick, stiff fabric of his new greatcoat. No matter. He could have it cleaned by a droid in the morning. The thought of calling a droid to launder his General’s greatcoat after he masturbated to orgasm while wearing nothing but it and his cap was almost enough to send him over the edge. But he gripped the base of his cock and pushed down his rising arousal. He needed to hear the rest.

“What was the other ceremony like? Today?”

“Like any of your speeches, Armitage.”

Hux’s eyes sprang open, furious, his hand not stopping. His thighs were trembling, and he spread them further apart, willing himself further toward a powerful climax. “CD-0922, if you do not give me the respect of my title, I will feed you to Phasma’s troopers on the _Finalizer_ , and you will find out exactly how different the two of you are.”

Cardinal paused, seemed to consider this, and gave another reluctant acknowledgment. “Yes sir, General Hux sir.”

“Then I order you to _describe the speech to me_ , Captain.” Hux kept his eyes fastened on Cardinal’s helmet, furious, needing something to look at and focus on.

“It was much larger than General Hux’s eulogy. The old General Hux, I mean. Tens of thousands of soldiers, spread out in the main bay of the _Absolution_. You said it was being broadcast to all the soldiers on the _Finalizer_  in the same way, and to the soldiers on the _Supremacy_ , and to the Officer’s Academy on the _Equity_ , and to all the land operations as well.”

“Say it, Captain. How many?”

Cardinal paused, begrudging him this. “Close to a million, at least. Five million, if the whole of the Fleet and Special Forces were watching. Everyone watched you promote yourself to General, saying your father’s death left you no other choice. Phasma, Kylo Ren, and I stood behind you while you gave one of your speeches.”

“Say it again. Tell me how many.”

“One point two million in the First Order Army, General Hux.”

Armitage clenched his eyes shut as hard as he could and pictured the sea of helmets, all tilted attentively to watch him, the new General Hux, on the raised stage with the red banners towering behind him, nearly a hundred thousand on the _Absolution_  alone. He let the pressure off the base of his dick and gave three short pulls, and he came, shuddering, into his fist. He kept the mess off his greatcoat and even managed to keep his grunt to himself.

He sat for a few moments, then opened his eyes, blinking blearily, almost forgetting that Cardinal’s looming presence was in the room with him. He stood and stared stupidly into his hand, trying to make a decision about how to proceed with a come-soaked palm. Eventually, he stumbled over to the sink to rinse his hands, and then continued to the bedroom, slumping onto the bed and falling asleep facedown, his oversize general’s greatcoat covering all but the bare bottoms of his feet and calves, his command cap askew and obscuring his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendol's death: Phasma does it. She uses a kind of gold beetle from her planet that bites its victims and causes them to swell up grotesquely, then explode, forcing all the water in their bodies out through their skin. On Phasma's desert planet, swarms of the gold beetles would then come out of the ground and consume the water. It's a pretty horrible way to die, and Brendol would have recognized the symptoms from his time on Phasma's planet. Phasma does it casually, just dropping the beetle on Brendol in passing. Armitage absolutely knows she's going to do it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren, in the flesh. And there is a lot of flesh this time around. Along with the real robe!Hux scene, finally.

**30 ABY…**

 

Armitage leaned forward, palms against the kitchen counter as he watched Cardinal enter the large private quarters. Cardinal took up his usual position by the door, hands behind his back, silent until spoken to, still the reliable red sentinel of General Hux.

Armitage came out from behind the counter and approached him, straightening his black robe as he went. He’d gotten a new one - red shimmersilk trim and decorative brocade, embroidered delicately with black thread that was only noticeable upon close examination. This robe fell nearly to the floor and was made of a far thicker fabric than most of the others he’d had over the years. He needed something nicer for this particular occasion, as someone aside from himself and Cardinal would see it.

“CD-0922, punctual as ever.”

“As ordered.”

Armitage stopped and kept his own form of silent attention in front of Cardinal, knowing he still presented himself as every inch the General even out of his uniform.

He debated over how much of the evening he should share with Cardinal. He’d been far too lax with the man lately, far too personal and sloppy in front of him. Really, he should just give an order and leave it at that. But it was a relief to let it all out, much as he was loathe to admit it. He hated that Cardinal was his confidante in this way, but he also knew, with the kind of certainty he rarely had for people or events outside his absolute control, that Cardinal would always keep his secrets. It was a weakness, but one he had always indulged in, and one that would never hurt him.

“Do you remember the night after my promotion?”

“ _Yes_.” This came out sounding strained and impatient through his voice synthesizer. “It was only a year ago, and you got so drunk that I had to call a med-droid so that you didn’t choke on your own vomit. That was the first time I actually did guard your life, so yes, I remember it.”

Armitage kept his expression neutral, but he was rather amused by Cardinal’s cheek. He really shouldn’t allow that kind of insubordination, but he liked that Cardinal was one of the few that would dare address him that way. Armitage acted as if Cardinal hadn’t spoken.

“As it turns out, I actually will need you to be vigilant tonight. I expect to be in some danger.”

“What.” Delivered in a flat tone. Armitage arched an eyebrow.

“You are expected to guard my life, CD-0922, as I’ve had you doing for many years now. Certainly you are familiar with the task. Did you not perform the same service for my father, before he developed a preference for Phasma?”

“You’ve been asking me to guard you for nearly twenty years, but you’ve never once been in danger. It’s always for show, or for your own private amusement. I thought we dropped the pretense a long time ago. I know you can order me around. Just do it and spare us both the trouble.”

“That was disrespectful, even for you.” When Cardinal said nothing, Armitage continued.

“I’ve invited a guest over tonight.”

“Ah.”

And Armitage could hear it in his tone, that he understood.

“It’s like that, yes. The guest is Kylo Ren.”

Cardinal, unflappable, a man who had never failed to rise to a challenge, took a step back. He put his palms out in front of him for a moment, then unexpectedly reached up to remove his helmet, gripping it tightly in one large palm. He had a tense, angry look on his face, and Armitage studied him curiously. It had been a long time since Armitage had seen him without the helmet, scalp shaved, chin and cheeks stubbled with a day’s worth of dark beard.

“He is a magic user. He strangles officers with his _mind_. I’ve heard other stories aside from what you’ve told me. About his temper. His weapon. What he does to the _Finalizer_ , constantly, for no reason.”

“And?”

Cardinal looked even more angry. “ _What do you think I can do to stop him_?”

Armitage was somewhat surprised to hear Cardinal admit that weakness. It was something they'd programmed out of Stormtroopers and Officers alike years ago, that a commander would ever ask a subordinate to do something outside their own abilities. It was one of the first programming decisions that Armitage and Cardinal had made together, and it was a good one. Neither Officers nor Troopers ever questioned their own abilities, and they felt safe in the knowledge that their commanders would know their limits and protect them. 

And both Cardinal and Armitage had been raised to believe they could complete any task, either through self-determination or because of Brendol, for better or worse. For either of them to admit weakness, especially in front of the other, was out of character. Cardinal was right, though. Armitage continued on as if he wasn't.

“Shoot him, I expect. He won’t be able to stop you if he’s distracted, and we’re in close quarters. You said yourself that he only kills the officers, and that is correct. The Troopers love him, and he treats them well. He should like you.”

“ _He hates you_. I’ve heard that too. _Why_  did you invite him to your suite on the _Absolution_?”

“Hmm.” Armitage turned away, walking back over to his drink cabinet. “I’m not sure he hates me. It’s hard to tell under that helmet. He’s not very loquacious, either.” With his back to Cardinal, he poured himself a drink, mostly to use as a prop. He hadn’t had anything to drink since his promotion, and he intended to keep his wits about him tonight.

When he turned back, he saw that Cardinal had taken a step towards him, helmet in hand, a desperate look on his face. Armitage was once again surprised to see the man doing his utmost to talk him out of close relations with Kylo Ren.

“Look, I know…” His eyes darted away, and back. “I know that there’s something about him that you’re drawn to. You made that clear enough.”

Armitage’s eyebrows rose. He’d wonder if Cardinal would broach the subject.

 

* * *

  
**29 ABY…**

 

 

Armitage slammed into the private suite on the _Absolution_ , where Cardinal was already waiting in his usual place just next to the door. Armitage had commed ahead to have the other man in the room. He was angry, struggling to control himself, had barely contained himself on the shuttle from the _Finalizer_ , and then again on the transport to his suite. Once in his rooms, he turned and kicked the door, petulantly, thankful once again that nobody but Cardinal had seen his pique. It was childish, but he couldn’t contain himself. When he realized he’d need a release, he’d thought of faithful Cardinal, the perfect soldier, who would do anything he was ordered to do. He would stand there as Armitage railed at him, never say a word to anyone, and Armitage would feel marginally better for talking to a real person. Such sessions on the _Finalizer,_ where he carried on by himself _,_  never effectively diffused his temper. The thought of sharing his frustrations with Phasma this way, of offering her this kind of leverage for free, was laughable.

“I couldn’t stand to be on that ship another minute.”

He was breathing hard, and he turned away from Cardinal to throw his hat across the room and run his gloved fingers through his hair, messing it. He spun back around, hair in his eyes, face aflame, hands balled into tight gloved fists at his side. Somehow, Cardinal’s presence now made his loss of control seem worse. Messing his hair made him remember his teenage pledge to keep it longer than regulation, since it was his privilege to do so and Cardinal kept his head shaved. His pettiness was suddenly stark and ugly, and he hated it. It was suddenly intolerable that Cardinal, of all people, saw him this way. That he'd spent years taunting Cardinal with slovenliness, with standing and watching every personal thing he did for himself. That there was another person that had seen him let go, that he wasn't the person he acted in front of others. He hadn’t felt less himself in the presence of another person since-

“Kylo Ren. What does this ship know of him?”

Cardinal inclined his head slightly. “Aside from the public facts that he is the Supreme Leader’s apprentice and assigned to the _Finalizer_  as Co-Commander, not much. He is presumably working closely with you and Phasma, and giving input from the Supreme Leader about training, routine, and Trooper movement.” He paused. “You had suggested that he was a bodyguard, similar to me, assigned by the Supreme Leader. That I do not share. Is it true?”

Armitage gave a harsh bark of laughter and closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair again and leaving it there, fingers tangled in the length at the back of his head. He thought of his father shaving his head, and lowered his hand, looking at Cardinal again and remembering their fights, his hand falling back to his side.

“Kylo Ren is nobody’s guard, nor does he take orders, or even obvious suggestions. He is a _child_ ,” he hissed. “In fact, the youngest and newest children on the _Absolution_  have better control of their tempers. He is a ruthless barbarian, willing to simply waste the lives of the First Order officers and the years of resources we’ve put into each person.” Armitage shrugged. “He has unpredictable outbursts, and he kills almost any officer unfortunate enough to speak to him when his mood changes. And, of course, it’s impossible to tell his mood because of the mask, so none of the officers know when delivering a simple message will end their life.”

Armitage unconsciously reached for his hair again, then was suddenly angry at himself. He walked across the room and braced his hands on the back of the uncomfortable ice-blue couch, slumping and dropping his head down so he wouldn’t have to face Cardinal again. He considered getting drunk again, but he hated the taste and had gotten so ill last time. But he might need it, to purge himself of thoughts of Kylo Ren.

“He also has a _lightsaber_ , some barbaric plasma weapon. I would shoot him myself while he’s swinging it about and doing all that damage, but he’s a genuine _Jedi_ , some sort of magician that can redirect blaster bolts. I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s working with Phasma on strategies for the Troopers to combat Force users, but he assures us that there’s no one else like him.” Armitage laughed hollowly again. “That he’s the best of a dying religion.”

He lifted his head back up to look at Cardinal, but didn’t bother to straighten his posture. “Force users. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen one myself. It’s real. That power is real.”

Cardinal shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. I would never lie to you.”

“You lie to me all the time.”

Armitage tipped his head, acceding. “Never to actually deceive you, though.” He respected Cardinal more than that. He would never lie to Cardinal about anything important, and Cardinal was smart enough not to believe everything Armitage said was true. The man was a tool, but he was one of the best ones Armitage had. As good as their conditioning now was, Armitage fully believed he could tell Cardinal to step out an airlock and the man would do it unquestioningly. And he was still a natural with the children, able to relate and guide them despite their age, flawlessly adapting each new group of refugees from the planets. Armitage needed Cardinal more than ever, now that he couldn’t spend as much time personally getting to know and mold each of the young Trooper cadets as he once had. He trusted Cardinal to do just as well, and see all the same things he did in each of them.

Cardinal would also keep his secrets, like his fit of temper tonight.

“You.” Armitage started, then swallowed. He needed to get this out, needed to ask it. He also hated that Cardinal could be useful for this, that Cardinal knew him better than anyone else, after a lifetime of closeness neither of them had wished for. Cardinal was a brother, as Armitage understood such things, or as such things existed in the First Order.

“You know I can give orders. I’m good at it. I can understand a person and know exactly what they need to hear to do what I want. Part of that is our conditioning, of course, for the Officers and Troopers both. But it’s also a gift, and I’m better at it than Brendol was.”

Cardinal said nothing to this, and Armitage pressed him. “I’m not bragging, I want you to give your opinion on it. I think I’m the best there is at giving orders, which is just as much a fact as you being the best Trooper in the First Order.”

Cardinal didn’t move, didn’t physically respond to Armitage’s obvious bait. “I’m not sure what you think I’ll say. Of course it’s true. You can manipulate people into doing whatever you want.”

Armitage nodded, ignoring the backhanded nature of the confirmation. “I do it with confidence. I don’t question it, and never have. Not since- Not since those first children my father conditioned, the ones he tried to utilize on Jakku.” He swallowed, narrowing his eyes and dismissing the memory. “They listened to orders I gave. I’ve given them ever since.”

He lowered his head again. “Kylo Ren doesn’t accept my orders. I can’t read him through his helmet, so I can’t tell what I need to offer him to get him to respond to me. I wouldn’t have thought the mask would be such a hindrance.” He gestured with a hand, still not looking up. “I modified the design of the same damn masks for the Troopers myself, and have seen people wearing them my whole life. I can get what I need from any Trooper, including Phasma.” He shook his head. “But not Kylo Ren. I can’t figure him out.”

Agitated, he pushed away from the couch and disappeared into his bedroom. He removed his uniform and dressed himself in a more comfortable lounging robe. It was shorter, lighter, with deep blue pleats and red piping on the edges. He left his legs and feet bare as he sat on the couch to contemplate, feeling calmer once he’d stripped out of the uniform he’d tainted with his own childish rage.

“He doesn’t take orders from anybody. As far as I can tell, not even from the Supreme Leader.” He looked up at Cardinal, draping his hands between his spread knees. “I’ve never met anyone who so adamantly refused to be directed. People always accede eventually. But not Kylo Ren.”

Cardinal visibly relaxed inside his armor, catching Armitage’s implication. “So he’s an outsider.”

“Yes.”

“Why not just condition him?”

Armitage made fists on his thighs, below the hem of his robe. “I don’t think he can be, not like the rest of us. I told you, he’s a wizard. Presumably, if Supreme Leader doesn’t have him leashed, he is is his own man.”

He leaned forward, shifting his elbows to his knees and letting his hands into his hair again, resting his head and closing his eyes. “And he hates me. Barely gives me the time of day, and was furious when I ordered the staff to get joint approval for all decisions from both of us before moving on orders.”

“That seems like a valid strategy.”

“He’s deadlocked the ship. Refuses to agree to even simple course corrections until I lift the other restrictions.”

Cardinal was silent for a moment. “And he hates you.”

“Yes.”

“If you aren’t lying about his magic, he seems like a dangerous man to be on the bad side of.”

When Armitage remained silent, Cardinal continued.

“Is Phasma protecting you?”

He thought of that golden beetle Phasma held between the fingers of her glove, and the calm way that she’d explained her intentions to Armitage.

“No,” he said simply, not wanting to reveal Phasma’s nature to Cardinal. It occurred to him that he had also run to the _Absolution_  for safety, that Cardinal really would give his life to protect him.

He looked up, keeping his fingers in his hair. “I trust in the Supreme Leader’s protection, that I am singular enough in the Order that Kylo Ren cannot kill me without being executed himself.”

Cardinal ignored this. “You should carry a service weapon. You never have before.”

Armitage was silent in response. His training with weapons had been through simulations, and he’d had even less live weapons training than the Troopers. He didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull the trigger. Not to mention he didn’t want to look like he feared for his safety among his own soldiers. Then he remembered something else.

“His magic deflects blaster bolts. He just…” he gestured. “Waves them away, as if they were nothing. You can’t shoot him. None of the Troopers have landed a hit on him yet. Not even Phasma.”

They both sat in silence for several minutes, until Cardinal made his decision. “You have to make a plan to get rid of him. He’s not in the best interest of the Order, if he’s that dangerous.”

“I can’t! He’s Snoke’s apprentice.” He straightened and leaned into the stiff back of the couch, hating how restless he was, how angry, his lack of control.

“I just need to find what he wants. I need to see his face, I need to know him. If I can do that, we can find common ground.”

“What he wants should be to further the goals of the First Order.”

Armitage frowned. He sometimes forgot how simple Cardinal was. “He’s not like us. I don’t know how or why the Supreme Leader chooses his warriors. And I can see merit in Kylo Ren. He is very powerful. But I don’t know what Snoke said or did to make a subordinate of such a man.”

“Rescued him.”

Armitage blinked. Perhaps simplicity was sometimes all there was. Loyalty through rescue was what the First Order had been built on. That had been true of both Phasma and Cardinal, and all their most powerful soldiers.

“What was he rescued from?”

This was a real question. Armitage didn’t often consider their recruiting methods in detail, since Cardinal and other officers did that for him, and they were very good at it. Armitage had done a lot of work to develop the loyalty programming for the First Order over the years, but he only knew the reasons he _told_  them they should be grateful.

There were the usual ones - lack of resources on barren planets or failed colonies, weak warlords that swapped power between themselves and squandered lives. Their loyalty programming and propaganda used these sorts of situations most often since they were common. Most of the recruits, both Troopers and Officers, had come from such backgrounds, and these were the problems they were most commonly intervening in when the Order occupied a planet. But there were other situations they had dealt with, of course, and any number of personal reasons that recruits had for joining.

Cardinal seemed to consider, his posture relaxing further. “The more advanced recruits, the ones that enter the program well-trained and well-nourished, are most frequently being liberated from an oppressive government. A controlling power that doesn’t invite opposition, but still cares for its citizens. Usually soldiers from those planets are displeased with the local politics and are happy to help the First Order liberate and govern fairly.”

Armitage thought about this answer. On the surface, this was true, although he knew that such planets, especially resource-rich ones, did take good care of their citizens and didn’t do well under First Order administration. And most of the truly skilled or exceptional fighters from those situations were killed, because they were part of the power structure that the First Order was overthrowing.

Still, that wasn’t always the case. Dissidents existed, and there were certain types of people that struggled under control. But Kylo Ren… certainly he would have been at the top of whatever power structure Snoke found him in, and if he was unhappy with control, he wouldn’t have submitted to Snoke.

As Armitage continued to stare at Cardinal, another thought occurred to him. Just as there were people that struggled under control, there were also people that needed it, were completely aimless without it. Maybe Kylo Ren had been guided and betrayed in his previous life, or used poorly, or both. Maybe he hadn’t been properly appreciated. Maybe he just needed to be convinced Armitage was truly on his side and had his best interests at heart.

Armitage pulled himself from his thoughts, shaking his head slightly. He frowned at Cardinal, then stood and paced, still agitated, the robe drifting around the tops of his thighs. “This isn’t helping me. I can’t know any of this until he removes his helmet. If I can see his face, I’ll be able to tell how to proceed.”

“Not necessarily. He may guard his expression as well as you do.”

Armitage paused and gave Cardinal a withering look. “I learned to control my expression because I don’t wear a mask. Any Trooper broadcasts every thought across their face. Including you.” Armitage began walking more slowly, turning to study the couch. “No. I’m sure. He wouldn’t wear a mask if he didn’t need it.”

“Armitage. It’s armor. It protects your face. It feeds you data about your opponent and environment conditions. It’s useful. You don’t need another reason.”

“It protects the face of an average Trooper, or someone who wants to be protected from blaster bolts and other weapons. Kylo Ren doesn’t need that protection, he’s got his magic.”

He dropped himself back onto the firm cushion of the couch, pulling the front of his robe further closed where it had parted across his chest, then crossing his arms and scowling at Cardinal again.

“Fine. I just need to… connect with him. Show him some humanity, and invite him to show his own. I’ll be able to determine how to proceed from there. At least get him to stop wasting Officers and repair resources.”

He leaned back, staring in front of him and thinking. He spoke out loud to himself, neither expecting or needing a reaction from Cardinal.

“I’ll find out what his plan is, his goals. I’ll offer to help him. It must be within the First Order’s power to grant his desires, or he wouldn’t be here. And I have resources at my disposal. We’ll come to an understanding.”

He impulsively parted the robe across his thighs, dipping a hand down to tease his cock. He thought of the night of the promotion, the thought of having someone as powerful as the Supreme Leader’s apprentice at his personal command. Like Cardinal, but better.

“He’s even more powerful than I thought. He’s magic. The Empire tried to wipe them all out, but somehow he survives and thrives. He’s singular. I don’t have anyone else that compares to him. No one does.”

Armitage knew he had a weakness for accumulating power, that he was too fascinated by it. But it came to him so easily, all this power. He knew exactly how to control people, to get them on his side and to use their power as his own without their realizing it. Kylo Ren would be no different.

“You should see him. He stands there in live weapons training. A whole unit fires on him, and he can stop the plasma bolts in midair, with a palm out, _with his mind_.”

His cock was hard, and he closed his eyes, picturing the training sessions. He’d watched hours of it via recordings, when Phasma had first brought it to his attention. And then he had to watch it live, from the viewing platform, after he had found out about it. He’d done so in private, not sure he could trust himself and his iron control in such a situation if it got out of hand.

“He has that sword. We don’t use the things, and this one’s why, it’s unstable and dangerous.” _But it suits him_ , Armitage thought to himself, thought of Kylo Ren deflecting blaster bolts with his sword, and using it with just enough control, the ridiculous thing spitting and hissing and likely to blow up, to destroy the trooper weapons, the staffs and flamethrowers and blasters. Even Phasma, who was impossible to read through her armor, had seemed utterly shocked when Kylo Ren came in close and dominated her in front of the cadets.

Had it been any other instructor, Armitage would have intervened. It wasn’t good to have Phasma so humiliated. She had said so herself, after the first time it had happened.

He had asked Phasma what she expected him to do about it, and walked away from her.

It was dangerous to make Phasma mad, and moreso Kylo Ren, but if he could control Kylo Ren.

He could control Phasma.

He could control anyone. Anything. Kylo Ren would do anything Armitage asked, with those powers of his.

It didn’t take him long to stroke himself to climax. He didn’t masturbate often, and in fact hadn’t since his promotion to General, six months ago. He blinked his eyes open, stunned by the power of it, his vision adjusting to the harsh light of his suite. He let his eyes focus on Cardinal’s red armor where the other man still stood impassively by the door.

Saying nothing, Armitage stood and closed the door of the ‘fresher behind him.

 

* * *

  
**30 ABY…**

 

  
“It’s his power I’m drawn to. I want it. It’s as simple as that,” Armitage said, feeling no shame in the admission.

Cardinal still looked distraught. “It’s not. This man is dangerous. We should both execute him and space him. Both the _Absolution_  and the _Finalizer_  would be better off.”

Armitage let condescension show on his face. “If I can control him, we’ll be that much better off.”

“You’ll be dead.”

“Have you ever seen me fail at controlling somebody? _Really_.” He put a palm against Cardinal’s chest and pushed him away. “Put your helmet back on. I’m expecting him soon. You are my insurance, and I want you to stay alert.”

Cardinal shook his head. “You really do believe it will be as easy as having sex with him.”

“You misunderstand. That’s not my goal, but this is the first time I’m considering offering myself, because the end product will be worth it. I want to be clear that it’s on the table.”

Armitage walked past him and sat on the couch, crossing his legs, letting his robe fall just so, letting it slide down one shoulder and expose a small amount of the pale skin of his chest. “There won’t be anything easy about it. But watch. And put your helmet back on.”

Cardinal, still worried, put his helmet back on and took up his usual position by the door.

“I’m not convinced the Supreme Leader guards your life from Kylo Ren. But even if he doesn’t know your worth, I do. I may not like you, but I don’t think the First Order will have a full future without you.”

Armitage kept his pleasure at such a comment from Cardinal pushed down. He’d heard this many times, but usually in formal settings or situations where people were trying to manipulate him. From Cardinal, it was genuine and unexpected, and he rarely received such compliments.

“Then guard me well. This is a calculated risk with a large reward. I intend to take it. Don’t let me die in the attempt.”

Armitage sipped at his drink contemplatively, relishing his aversion to the taste, staring off into space as he let the minutes to Kylo Ren’s arrival tick down. He glanced toward his side table when he heard a ping from his datapad, the alarm he’d set for the arrival of Kylo Ren’s transport in the _Absolution_ ’s docking bay. He dismissed it with an entirely feigned disinterested flick of his hand, then resumed staring off into space. When the comm on his door sounded twenty minutes later, he used the same disinterested motion to admit the caller into both his outer offices and his private suite, not even bothering to check if it was Kylo Ren. It could be no one else.

The Knight strode in, smelling of ozone and burnt fabric, his tattered cowl trailing behind his broad shoulders. Armitage sized him up once again from his position on the couch. He was a large man. Broader, if not taller than Phasma. The same broad, solid strength as Cardinal, one of the largest men in the army. Unlike the rest of the First Order army, he obviously did not show pride and consideration through appearance. His helmet and mask were scratched and dented, the pleats on his shoulders and sleeves frayed. He had several burns in his overly long tunic, and the trailing ends at his legs were shredded. His boots were scuffed, and Armitage controlled his aversion when he thought he glimpsed the other man’s _foot_  through a hole near the toe of his left boot.

Kylo Ren paused a few steps into the private suite. Armitage let an uncomfortable pause play out between them, then took a sip of his drink and reached over to the datapad, locking the door behind the Knight.

“General Hux. You scheduled an appointment to see me. On another ship.”

The first thought that occurred to Armitage was to ask Kylo Ren if he’d finally approved the course correction on the _Finalizer_  to make his transport trip shorter. But he bit back the sarcasm.

“I thank you for humoring me. I needed to review some issues with the newest cadet recruits with Captain Cardinal today, to determine if they would be compatible with our First Order program.” Armitage’s eyes flicked to Cardinal briefly, and he inclined his glass. “I’ll be here two more days. I thought you might be interested in reviewing the basics with us, if you wish.”

Kylo Ren turned to study Cardinal, turning with two heavy steps rather than pivoting at the waist or neck. He kept his shoulders straight, his hands open and ready at his side, and Armitage thought he spotted the glint of the other man’s lightsaber at his belt. He quickly looked back up to Cardinal. Cardinal didn’t move, his helmet still oriented straight in front of him, though Armitage was sure his eyes evaluate the Knight from inside his helmet. With both of their expressions concealed, he could not read the exchange. He knew well enough how Cardinal felt, but Kylo Ren remained a mystery.

After a moment, Kylo Ren took the two steps to turn back toward Armitage. “You are not dressed as if to review Trooper training sims.”

“No.” Armitage crossed one leg over the other, exposing a thigh and stretching an arm across the back of the couch, sipping at his drink. “I wished to discuss another matter just now.”

“And what matter would that be?”

Armitage raised his glass again, and looked up at Kylo Ren over the rim. “I asked you here, to my suite, because I wanted this to be a conversation rather than an order. You are not a man who takes orders.” He gestured with his other hand to himself. “So I removed my uniform. Won’t you remove your helmet and sit down, so we can talk?”

Kylo Ren paused for a long moment. Long enough that Armitage thought he would decline. But he would make Kylo Ren do that himself, would not interrupt the moment until the other man had pronounced it over.

To his surprise, Kylo Ren removed his helmet. And he was even more surprised by what he saw, though he suppressed any trace of a reaction.

Armitage had been expecting an older man, a battle-scarred warrior, a leader that lacked political savvy and charisma. A man who could be followed, but perhaps didn’t know where to go.

But Kylo Ren was younger than even Armitage. Armitage knew better than to be shocked - he himself was far too young by most standards to be a seasoned General in charge of a significant amount of resources in a fledgling system of government. He rarely met anyone outside the Order, but their reactions were always surprise, disappointment, derision. Armitage always proved them wrong, but that initial dismissal always made his blood boil. He knew enough not to react to someone else’s age, and he knew Kylo Ren quite well enough not to dismiss him.

It was difficult, though. Kylo Ren was awkward, pale, with everything over-large underneath the helmet. Nose, ears, lips, dark brown eyes. Even his riot of dark hair that was damp with sweat and a bit matted and flat from being inside his helmet.

His careful expression also showed Armitage that Kylo Ren wasn’t the bitter, defensive person his attire suggested. Armitage had been right - his face was far more expressive than Kylo Ren should have allowed. He was surprised the Supreme Leader hadn’t instructed him not to remove his helmet for this very reason. Certainly Snoke knew what Armitage was capable of, and that he would snatch Kylo Ren straight from his side if he could. And when he confirmed the alliance, he would make sure the Knight never removed his helmet in anyone else’s presence.

No one had taught him control in any aspect of his personality or appearance, apparently. Right now, he looked wary, lost, curious. Not defensive, not angry. Armitage realized he could eat this man alive, and absolutely would wrap him around his finger this evening. He was thrilled by the thought, and shifted slightly, rapidly laying out a strategy for the rest of the evening while keeping his expression welcoming and his eyes riveted to Kylo Ren.

“Sit down,” Armitage repeated, gesturing to the single stuffed chair in the suite, a dark blue monstrosity next to the small endtable to Armitage’s right. The Knight did so, lowering himself slowly, cradling his helmet awkwardly in his lap, his eyes never leaving Armitage’s.

“I wish to discuss the _Finalizer_. I’ve found us at odds more than I would like, and it’s a situation I wish to remedy. When our views differ, we are unable to have a rational discussion and come to an understanding. I think it would be easier if we got to know each other here, had a quiet conversation where there’s no pressure. So the next time there’s an issue on the _Finalizer_ , rather than losing our tempers in the heat of a tense moment, we’ll know how to talk it out. In private, if need be.”

He took another feigned sip of his drink, then waved it slightly in the Knight’s direction. “I’m being rude. Would you like anything to drink?”

The Knight glanced at the glass for only a second, then back to Armitage’s face. “No.”

“Fine,” Armitage said. He took a real sip this time, and watched as the Knight’s gaze went to his throat, then dipped lower to take in the neck of the robe before returning to Armitage’s eyes. Getting him drunk would be easier, but Armitage felt a thrill shoot through him again at realization that this was already working just as he imagined. Kylo Ren’s drifting gaze belied his interest, and it was utterly perfect.

“I thought we could begin by discussing goals. I’ve not had the chance to tell you, your training with the Troopers has been phenomenal. You are a peerless warrior, and our forces are strengthened every day under your direction. I always strive to reach the full potential of every soldier, and you are making progress in ways I could not have imagined.”

Armitage was pleased to see the Knight’s posture straighten fractionally with the compliment, his shoulders going back. When the Knight said nothing, continuing to stare at Armitage, he continued.

“I feel like one of the reasons we are disagreeing is that our areas of command are not clearly defined. Did you enter service in the First Order hoping to spread your knowledge of how to defend against others like you? Or is that the means to something else? Do you have other, future goals in mind?”

The Knight’s features wrinkled in distaste. “I’m no instructor. I’m training your Troopers now so that it may one day conquer the New Republic government. But yes, there are others like me, and I want to make sure they can’t single-handedly take down your army.”

Armitage filed away the _your army_  comments for later perusal, noting for now that Kylo Ren didn’t see himself as their commander, and also enjoying the implication that he personally owned the entire army.

“Oh? Do you have first-hand experience of New Republic oppression?”

Kylo Ren snorted, and began glancing rapidly around the room, looking at nothing. “They aren’t oppressive, just ineffective. They maintain their power by claiming everyone will get their way, by lying to the member nations, to everyone. They can keep no promise, make no system of government. The rich get richer while lying to the poor about things improving.” At the end of this impromptu speech, his eyes went back to Armitage’s, and he had a tenseness to his shoulders and features. Armitage leaned forward slightly, trying to draw him in, feeling the robe slip a bit more at his throat.

“There are no lies in the First Order. We balance resources equally between planets, and arbitrate disputes to make sure both sides are represented. You know us.”

Kylo Ren nodded, looking more relaxed, if still slightly suspicious. “I do. You are no posturing Republican politician. You believe in what you’re doing. So do I.”

He wondered briefly what Kylo Ren would have thought of the First Order ten years ago, before Snoke's money made life within the organization itself bearable. Their ideologies remained the same, as did most of the trooper and officer programming. But before the financial boost, they had done a great deal of posturing themselves, only the best-looking equipment, ships, and troops visible to new contacts, new governments. Meanwhile, their shipping vessels would fail or be taken by pirates, leaving tens of thousands on the large Destroyers without the powdered supplements that were consumed in the absence of the real food they never had. Would Kylo Ren have stayed on board the ships when the temperature control and oxygen levels fluctuated and failed constantly? Would he have stood by them while they struggled to hold and protect planets they had allied with?

They had come so far. Would Kylo Ren have agreed with an organization that stood on ideas alone, that struggled to make their vision reality?

No matter. They now had regular supplies, income, and recruitment. It no longer mattered if Kylo Ren would have agreed with their past. Kylo Ren was here now, and Armitage would use him.

Armitage pressed his advantage. “Good, I’m glad to hear it.” He sipped at his drink, and the bitter taste was a small price to pay to watch Kylo Ren’s eyes go to his throat, longer this time. He stretched his head back slightly farther to enhance the view before straightening, sitting forward and continuing.

“How do you hope to conquer the New Republic?”

Kylo Ren glanced to the side again. “Supreme Leader Snoke is wise. He will see the task through to the end.”

Armitage wanted to roll his eyes back into his head in response to such drivel, but he kept his expression professional and leaned back into the stiff back of the couch. “I do a lot of his strategizing, things like organizing resources and making sure the First Order is properly represented when we intervene in a new planet’s government disputes or resource management. The Supreme Leader often gives us coordinates for planets that are struggling. However, I agree that we should start encroaching more on the Outer Rim and making our presence known by the New Republic. If you have any strategy for how to engage them, please tell me. I feel we will soon be ready.”

Kylo Ren’s gaze dropped to his helmet, and he began to pick at the silver edging around the eyeshield with a gloved finger. “No. I assume what you usually do will work, just on a larger scale.”

“Then you are satisfied with training the troops for now?”

He shook his head. The sweat was drying from his hair, and it was starting to increase in volume, spreading out around his head and covering more of his ears. “That’s fine for a while, but eventually they’ll be proficient in what I have to teach them. I want to play an active part in negotiations and disputes.” His gaze went back up to Armitage. “I’ve had enough of sitting around and doing nothing.”

Armitage let a small smile show. He wondered if Kylo Ren was implying a defection from the New Republic itself. If so, that was absolutely delightful. But he dare not ask just now.

“Then you would be happier heading some of the exploratory units we send into problem areas?”

Kylo Ren nodded.

“I see.” Armitage blinked and leaned back into the couch, stretching an arm across again, letting his robe fall open and slide down his other shoulder, exposing his chest down to his navel. Kylo Ren’s brown eyes fastened on it, not bothering to look back up. Armitage responded with a slight spread of his thighs, twitching his knees further apart, just so.

“You’ve been… rather aggressive on the _Finalizer_ , Kylo Ren. That’s been the source of much of our disagreement. You seem like a powerful man, a man who wishes to be occupied. I wish to aid you in this, so you no longer feel you need to take out your temper on the ship and my officers. That costs us money that we could better use to aid struggling planets.”

This was transparent, and a little ham-handed, but Armitage was slightly overwhelmed with how well his seduction was working. He could feel his skin heating slightly, and he let it, not bothering to calm himself down or suppress the slight blush he felt creeping high on his cheeks.

To his surprise, Kylo Ren’s ears turned red, and his expression looked chastised when he looked away from Armitage’s bare chest and back into his lap and helmet. He didn’t respond to the blatant invitation, and Armitage felt his skin heat even more, this time with frustration, anger, and a sudden, overwhelming desire to _own_  the other man, to make him his, something he’d never desired of another person before. Tools were one thing, but Kylo Ren was something else entirely, and Armitage wanted everything about him.

Armitage thought of Kylo Ren choking an Officer with his hand outstretched, the Officer lifted several inches off the floor as they died with just a thought from the Knight. He thought of the footage he’d watched of the Knight obliterating consoles with his lightsaber.

“What about this.” He leaned forward again, more eager than perhaps he should have allowed himself to be. He moved his legs so that his robe fell open all the way, the red sash barely cinched at the waist, the colllar sliding all the way down his shoulders and back and to his elbows, pooling around the backs of his hands where they were braced against the couch. “I’d like to help you with your… excess energies, Kylo Ren. I believe that your undesirable behavior-” at the dark warning look from Ren, Armitage’s expression didn’t change, nor did his tone, but he was more careful- “And we all have it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all have things we work to rise from. But I think it would benefit us both if we found another outlet for your… passions. Don’t you?”

He held Kylo Ren’s gaze steadily, tilting his head back to look at the other man down his nose, imperiously, but also to expose more of his neck. He blinked, licked his lips, and swallowed one last time.

And just like that, Kylo Ren was across the space, his helmet hitting the floor heavily, one of his knees pressing between Armitage’s legs, mouth on Armitage’s lips. Armitage was surprised enough by this that he closed his eyes to mask it. His hands went to the Knight’s shoulders, feeling the man’s heat through the tattered fabric of his light shirt, and he tried to kiss back, the best he knew how. He felt the Knight’s tongue enter his mouth, and he sucked at it, biting slightly. The Knight moaned, pulling back, sucking on Armitage’s lip as he pulled away.

“ _Hux_ ,” he murmured low against Armitage’s mouth, and the shock of it went through his belly and straight to his dick. _Hux_. Not his father. Just him. Kylo Ren said _General Hux_  and only thought of Armitage. The thought was shocking and arousing, and Armitage was suddenly furious at himself for the reaction and desperately wanted more.

“How did you know?” the Knight asked, when Armitage sat in stunned silence.

Armitage chuckled, not understanding what the Knight meant. “I always know. It’s my job to know everything that happens aboard the ships.” He reached up and ran his fingers through the Knight’s hair, which was still sweaty and damp from the helmet, and more tangled than it looked. Armitage suppressed a frown when his fingers caught in the knots, and he pulled gently at them. “You were vexing. You’re too strong for your own good, and you aren’t like the rest of us.”

Kylo Ren closed his eyes and exhaled, taking Armitage’s mouth hard again. It was hot and full of tongue and teeth and _Kylo Ren was his_. When Kylo Ren pulled back, his brown eyes found Armitage’s, and he studied him, his face serious.

“I wanted you. I wanted you as soon as I saw you. Was it so obvious?”

Armitage blinked.

“Yes. As I said, I always know.”

He stared at Armitage with those brown eyes full of a heat that Armitage had never seen before. He was fascinated, and stared right back, waiting to see what the Knight would do.

The Knight leaned back and pulled his gloves off with his mouth, those lips, before continuing. Kylo Ren had large, calloused hands, and they made short work of the nicest robe Armitage owned. He pushed the fine embroidered fabric off Armitage’s arms, leaving it to pool around his thighs and exposing his entire body to the Knight’s hungry gaze. He moved down, kneeling between Armitage’s knees, and began working his mouth worshipfully all over Armitage’s skin, his eyes closed, face in perfect ecstasy.

Armitage was relieved when the Knight closed his eyes, because he was finding it difficult to keep the stunned disbelief off his face. What was happening? He stared, open-mouthed, across the room to Cardinal, who stood at blank attention and offered no clues.

He could give this to Kylo Ren, and Kylo Ren obviously wanted it. He could also hold it back, treat it as a prize, and be more prepared next time. But if he gave himself now, would Kylo Ren not want him again? Would he lose his hold over the man in the same hour he’d found it? There was nothing about the encounter itself Armitage could use against him, so it was a risk.

His thoughts ground to a halt when Kylo’s mouth found one of his nipples and began sucking. Armitage closed his eyes and laid his head back. Perhaps the best tactic was to wait and see.

To his consternation, Kylo Ren’s attentions slowed, and then stopped. Armitage opened his eyes to find the other man looking upset and worried. He frowned, trying to read the situation. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not like this?”

“What? Of course I do.” Armitage moved his hands from the couch, cupping Kylo Ren’s face between them, and he saw the heat leap back into the Knight’s eyes. “You’re so _greedy_. You really were eager to have me, weren’t you?”

“You’re too quiet.”

This was news to him. Armitage let a corner of his mouth quirk in response. “I didn’t know you wanted me loud. As you can imagine, we’re rather restrained here. Would you like to hear me?”

Kylo Ren nodded, sitting up into a crouch to capture Armitage’s lips again and murmur his answer above them. “Yes. Tell me how well I’m doing.”

Armitage’s eyes briefly cut over to Cardinal again as he drew a blank about what to say in this kind of situation. The Knight froze, turning around to look at the other man, and Armitage cursed himself for the simple tell. The Knight turned back, scowling. “What’s he still doing here?”

Armitage pushed down his uncertainty, giving as confident an answer as he could. “That’s just Cardinal. He’s always here. My guard. He’s loyal, and very discreet.”

To Armitage’s astonishment, Kylo Ren turned and stretched out one of his ungloved hands, and Armitage watched as the large, red-armored warrior, the pinnacle of his army, fell boneless to the floor.

Armitage sat up slightly, but found he was pushed back into the couch by the same palm, returning to its previous work. He felt panic surge and fought it down again, letting his confidence and authority get him through, the way it always did.

“Did you kill him?” he asked, managing to sound annoyed.

The Knight’s face folded in distaste. “Why would I kill him? Isn’t he one of your captains? I just didn’t want him to watch.”

Armitage’s heart was slamming in his chest, and he felt the heat of embarrassment and residual fear racing across his skin. He glanced down at Kylo Ren’s palm, pressed against the bare skin of his chest, and his traitorous cock twitched below the red sash of the robe, still draped across his hips and concealing nothing. He looked back up into the Knight’s eyes, and honesty came to his lips unbidden.

“Who will save me from your attentions now?”

He didn’t feel safe, and at the same time, he wanted the Knight’s power, felt like this was the right path, and also wanted the other man to take him apart with those powers of his. To hold him down, press him into the couch.

“Nothing can save you now, General Hux.” The Knight grinned crookedly and Armitage jumped as Kylo shifted him easily, laying him across the wide, firm cushions of the ice blue couch, head just below the arm rest. The Knight climbed on top of him, straddling his hips with his solid thighs on either side. He removed his belt, lifting off first his tunic, then his undershirt, baring his wide, massive chest.

He leaned over Armitage, and Armitage let himself groan, let out the noises the Knight had asked for, his mind searching for the right thing to say to keep the other man pleased.

“Like that. Overpower me. Lay on top of me.”

Kylo Ren kissed him again, harder, a finger working at one of Armitage’s nipples. When he ground his hips into Armitage’s erection, Armitage could feel the other man hard against his thigh, through the thin cloth of his pants, a spot of damp heat rubbing harshly against his skin. He pushed up into the Knight from below, groaning into the Knight’s mouth, wondering if he’d lost control of the situation and still not finding the words the other man likely wanted to hear from him.

“I can feel you wanting it, your lust. It’s powerful. You can’t hide it from me, General Hux. Who would have guessed you contain such passions? Your robe and your couch and your wish to have someone take you apart.”

Armitage let out a noise of uncertainty that wasn’t entirely feigned. He continued to watch the Knight’s face for cues, looking for the right thing to say, searching for what was going to happen next. He thought about what the Knight had said, and what he’d already responded to. The other man liked praise, and liked to be led, but he was also more than willing to overpower Armitage, to give him everything.

“Pin my wrists. Above my head. Can you do that?”

Armitage twitched and writhed beneath him as Kylo Ren obeyed, taking both wrists in one of his big hands and holding them above his head, against the cushion of an armrest. He squeezed them together, and it was just painful enough.

“Don’t let me loose. Order me around. Tell me what you’re about to do to me.”

The other man’s face softened. “What do you want me to do?”

Armitage let out a noise of frustration, thrusting his hips back up into Kylo Ren’s. “Threaten me! Tell me what will happen if I don’t submit. Other than that, you may do as you wish.”

The Knight bent down to kiss him again, and Armitage felt him nip at his lower lip. “Whatever I want. So dangerous. I’m not sure you understand what you’ve just allowed, General Hux.”

“Yes. Use my title, just like that.” Armitage closed his eyes. “What do you want to be called?”

“Kylo.”

“Fine. Kylo. Can you hold my hands with… with the Force, while you touch me with your hands?”

He felt Kylo grin against his mouth. “So naughty, General.”

“No. _General Hux._ ”

“ _General Hux,_ ” he murmured against Armitage’s lips, in an exact imitation of Armitage’s clipped Imperial accent. Armitage let out another groan into his mouth, once again not entirely feigned. He was definitely losing control, but he wasn’t sure he would hold it in this situation anyway. He had no idea what to expect.

“Yes, Kylo, good, more.”

He felt a pressure around his wrists, tingling, holding them together and pushing them further into the cushion. Then he felt both of Kylo’s hands around his ribcage, dragging down to his stomach. Kylo’s tongue trailed over Armitage’s throat and down the center of his chest, and he sucked a mark at the point between his belly and ribs.

“So soft,” he murmured. “Who would have guessed that high command would be so soft?”

“Fuh-fuck you,” Armitage’s eyes snapped open, and he felt his anger surge up, the rage, the old hurts. “Is there not enough of me to meet your tastes? Disappointed, now that you’ve seen me out of uniform?” Armitage sneered at him. “I could kill you with a word. I could make you disappear. I have hundreds of thousands of soldiers that will mobilize with a word from me.”

Kylo looked at him, his expression mild. “I like that. And I like this.” He turned his head and dipped his tongue into Armitage’s belly button, trailed his nose down the line of hair that led lower. “I like that you’re just a man, under your uniform, and you’re still all those things you said.”

Armitage snorted, trying to sit up, but held in place by the bonds. His cock leaked, and he felt heat sweep through him again. “We’re all just people, once you get us naked. Look what I found under your mask.”

Kylo looked troubled by this, meeting his eyes again just at the line of his pubic hair. “Did you like what you saw?”

And just like that, Armitage’s rage melted away, and he had control again. “Of course I did. I liked it better than the mask.” He groped around in his memory, trying to think of something appropriately seductive to say here. His experience with such things was embarrassingly paltry, in this moment. “You can’t suck my dick with a mask on, can you?”

Kylo slid down, parting Armitage’s thighs and pushing one of his legs up to rest against the back of the couch. He knelt, adjusting himself around the obvious erection in his pants. He looked from Armitage’s bright red, weeping erection back to his face. “But what made you suddenly decide you wanted me? Was it my powers?”

A dangerous edge to his tone suggested that agreeing was the wrong answer. Armitage tossed his head back, clearing the hair that had fallen into his eyes, and used his most imperious tone.

“I’ve told you, have I not? I wanted the man who couldn’t contain his anger to hold me down and overpower me. I wanted to feel threatened and have no power to stop you. Do you think I can get that from some Stormtrooper? No, I’ve conditioned all the resistance out of them. You aren’t like us, though.”

This was the right thing to say, and Kylo grinned wickedly, dragging his lips across the soft skin of Armitage’s lower abdomen and resting his lips at the top of his cock. He rested a thumb at the base of his erection, just between cock and balls, and pushed in.

“Well, I’ll just have to get started on that, General Hux”

His grip shifted and he pushed Armitage’s thighs up, and Armitage yelped as his knees were forced up by his ears, the Knight’s strength bearing down on the undersides of his thighs. The stretch of muscles burned, but he held the position, shaking slightly from the strain.

“Such a pretty cock, too.” He licked up the length of the underside, taking the tip gently between his lips before looking back up into Armitage’s face. “Uncut. And I like all your hair down here. Red. I’m surprised you don’t trim it. Not very orderly, is it?”

Armitage had only a moment to try and picture what this meant before Kylo took him into his mouth, and he cried out, completely losing his control. He struggled and tried to pull against his wrists, sit up, strain his legs against the Knight’s grip. He was held in place, and he felt his dick throb in the other man’s mouth. He was close. It wouldn’t take much of this. He shook and trembled, tried to slide away from the Knight, and couldn’t.

“Kylo! Kylo, wait-”

And the Knight hummed, and his deep voice resonated into Armitage’s balls and all the way up the length of his dick and into the tight muscles of his abdomen. Before Armitage could get his breath to issue a command, the Knight did something with his throat, and Armitage came, reminding himself to be loud, to yell Kylo’s name.

He was breathing hard, shaking in a rather alarming way, and he tried to will himself to relax, to push all of this down. He felt Kylo’s grip on his thighs loosen, felt the Knight chuckle as he began licking off the come from Armitage’s dick. Armitage twitched his hips, trying to pull away from his mouth.

“General Hux, I had no idea you were so… succinct in your habits,” Kylo murmured, still tonguing Armitage’s spent cock.

This was lost on Armitage, and he was not in a fit mental state for mind games at the moment. He struggled for the right sort of casual response to his orgasm, then shrugged, schooling his face into his usual cool indifference.

“I had no idea how much I would like it. You’re better than I imagined.”

Kylo looked pleased by this, surging up to kiss Armitage, still with his hands around Armitage’s thighs, pushing him down with his weight into the couch. Armitage hadn’t realized until that moment that the Knight must have swallowed his come, and he groaned as he tasted himself inside the man’s mouth, writhing against the bonds still around his wrists, trying to get away from the filthy kiss.

“Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting,” he hissed against Kylo’s lips as he pulled back. Armitage could barely see the Knight’s face, his hair falling around their heads and blocking the light. He had a moment to wonder if that was the wrong thing to say, then Kylo licked his lips and moved further down.

Armitage jumped when he felt a fingertip against his ass. “Will you be relaxed enough for this?”

He blinked again, keeping his face schooled to indifference, trying to parse what Kylo was asking him. Kylo responded to the hesitation by probing a finger deeper.

“Do you have lube?”

Then it clicked, and Armitage had to control his blush. “No, I don’t have lube in this suite.”

Kylo frowned. “I thought that’s what you invited me here for.”

Armitage tried to sit up, but he was still held down by his wrists. “I didn’t think we would get this far, I’m…” he trailed off, not knowing what kind of excuse would be acceptable. He looked defiantly up at the Knight, seeing what he would do next.

Kylo looked unhappy, and he shifted, bracing himself against the couch by putting a hand on either side of Armitage’s chest, He held himself over the man, his dick still hard in his pants and pressed between Armitage’s thighs, the fabric damp around the Knight’s erection.

“I would have expected the great General Hux to be prepared. Perhaps you are less exact in your personal life.”

“Not usually. But isn’t that why I called you here today? To make a mess of me?”

Armitage cocked his head in challenge, and the Knight’s wicked smile returned. “Make a mess of you. I think I can manage that.”

Kylo sat back, and Armitage felt another pressure as his knees were forced back again without Kylo’s hands, further even than last time, painful and almost too far. In this position, his ass was pushed into the air and his robe was pooled underneath him, the sash open, his ass and spent cock on display to the Knight’s scrutiny.

As Armitage watched, the Knight dipped the waistband of his pants low, freeing his erection and letting the pants ride just below his balls. His dick was leaking precome, more than Armitage had ever seen, and Armitage frowned. The tip looked different, and he forced his eyes away, not wanting to stare at Kylo Ren's deformity. He forced his mind back to their previous conversation, meeting the Knight's eyes.

“You certainly are making a mess, aren’t you?”

“I cleaned you up though, General Hux. You didn’t spill a drop. Nothing to mar that pristine, perfect skin of yours.” His eyes ran up and down Armitage’s body, lingering on his bare shoulders. “Your freckles are cute. When was the last time you saw the sun?”

Armitage pushed his offense down. Kylo was stroking himself, obviously masturbating to the sight of Armitage stretched and held like this. Armitage was willing to give whatever the Knight wanted from him now.

“Years,” he admitted. “Don’t need to. I have people that do that for me.”

“But no one to hold you down and make a mess of you. Poor General Hux.”

Armitage arched an eyebrow in challenge, trying to gauge the likelihood of future encounters, of the hold he had on the Knight. “I thought we’d settled that?”

Kylo closed his eyes and was stroking faster now. “Did we? Did I do a satisfactory job?”

Armitage grinned when the Knight couldn’t see it. This was almost too transparent. “So good, Kylo. So good for me. I’ve waited so long for it, don’t make me wait any longer.”

Kylo came with a grunt, and he opened his eyes as he covered Armitage’s chest in semen. Armitage couldn’t keep the shock off his face. Is that what he had meant by making a mess of him?

With his mouth open, he raised his shocked eyes to the Knight’s face, who opened his eyes and continued his orgasm, raising his hips and making sure the last burst hit Armitage in the face.

Armitage could only cry out in dismay, but before he let his emotions get the better of him, Kylo was on top of him again, their chests sliding together, the Knight’s tongue cleaning off his face.

“Just a bit,” he murmured, licking the mess off the eyelashes of Armitage’s left eye, his warm breath ghosting across Armitage's damp skin. “And I can clean you up again. You see? Pristine General Hux. Now you can pass your own muster.”

Armitage rolled his eyes before Kylo opened his. During his orgasm, the Force hold had disappeared from around Armitage’s wrists and thighs, and he used them now, clamping his legs around Kylo’s waist and running his hands through the other man’s knotted hair, dampened once again with sweat. He tried not to imagine the come drying between their chests.

“Good. Exactly what I wanted, Kylo. Better than I imagined.”

Kylo buried his face into Armitage’s neck and settled on top of him, breathing his hot, humid breath against Armitage’s neck.

“Mine. You’re mine now, mine to command.” Armitage mouthed softly into the hair at the crown of his head, not even whispered aloud for the other man to hear.

Evidently he did, because he raised his head back up and gave Armitage another fierce, salty kiss that likely tasted like the leavings from both of them.

“And you’re mine to destroy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You all make me very happy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, you're probably fine with the content in this chapter, though be warned that the flashback has more of the same from last time, taken a step farther and from Cardinal's POV. Hux hints at sex with Cardinal, and I'll elaborate on that in the end notes in case that's a problem.

**32 ABY…**

 

 

Cardinal stood in docking bay four and watched as the transport entered through the transparent energy shield and hovered slowly into its assigned stall, landing smoothly, the engines flickering out and the hydraulic ramp lowering. He stood at attention with a full unit of his best Stormtroopers behind him, part of the regular legion that was stationed aboard the _Absolution_  at all times.

He was impassive as the ramp stretched down and Armitage Hux and Kylo Ren emerged.

Though they spoke occasionally via comms and messages, it suddenly occurred to Cardinal that he hadn’t seen Armitage in over a year. They hadn’t been separated so long since they first met, almost thirty years before.

He saluted, and he heard the step of the Troopers doing the same in unison behind him.

“At ease, CD-0922.”

Cardinal straightened and nodded, studying Armitage’s face from behind his helmet. He looked the same, the year hadn’t changed him significantly. Still arrogant, still in command, still refusing to use the name that his father had given Cardinal. He had occasionally used it in private as they got older, but never where others could hear him. At least he had stopped calling him Archex.

“Would you like to review the sims directly?”

Armitage nodded. “That will be fine. Take us to the main broadcast room, we’ll review the statistics together.” He turned, glancing briefly at Kylo Ren before turning back to Cardinal.

“Kylo Ren may have input about the content. He’ll want to review the programs.  We need to be sure they agree with what we’re using with the older students on the _Finalizer_.”

Cardinal thought that Kylo Ren could speak for himself if he wanted to give input, but he nodded his silent assent and turned, leading them down the hallway to the transport. He was simply relieved that Armitage hadn’t brought Phasma. He’d heard through Officer gossip that they’d grown much closer lately.

He wondered if Armitage expected a thanks from Cardinal, for his new assignment as the head of the younger Cadet program. It had been an order given from afar as a message, not even a live comm.

Cardinal had seen Armitage only once after that initial meeting with Kylo Ren in the Hux suite. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had occurred there. He’d fallen unconscious, waking up in his own rooms and not remembering how or why. He’d panicked, sure that something terrible had befallen Armitage, that after years of sham guard duty, Cardinal _had_  failed to guard his life the one time Armitage had asked in earnest. His frantic trace of Armitage’s security clearance had revealed that he’d allegedly left the ship, and Cardinal had scrambled to verify that he was still alive, that it wasn’t an elaborate cover and coup by Kylo Ren.

He had watched a vid feed of the pair boarding a shuttle side by side some hours after Kylo Ren had joined Armitage in his rooms. Cardinal had relaxed, relieved that Armitage had at least left the ship alive and Kylo Ren had not killed him here.

After, Armitage had gone weeks without a single visit or comm, which once again made Cardinal suspicious of Kylo Ren’s motives. Armitage hardly went three full rotations without sending a comm or message to Cardinal about the program, and had always insisted on personal oversight even after his promotion to General. The cadets liked seeing him, and he always appeared to enjoy reviewing their training, as much as Armitage enjoyed anything. And the _Absolution_  was his base of operations, out of tradition if nothing else. Though Cardinal knew his own presence may have had something to do with that as well, for better or worse.

After six weeks had passed without a single message from Armitage, Cardinal had done more digging to ensure that he still lived and gave orders on at least one of the training ships. He’d verified the General was still alive and whole, and had felt relief, but a pang as well - Armitage hadn’t spared him a single thought in that time, after all their years together shaping the program. Now… nothing.  Nothing for Cardinal, nothing for the program.

After three months, Armitage had given over the running of the _Absolution_  and its training programs to Cardinal via an impersonal written order. He was as good as his word, and rarely sent comms or simulation requirements after that. Cardinal was free to exercise whatever methods he felt necessary. It was strange, as if he’d been forgotten, but Armitage would never have done it unless he trusted Cardinal entirely.

Not long after he washed his hands of the _Absolution_ , Armitage had sent one last message alerting Cardinal to a visit.

 

* * *

**30 ABY…**

 

 

 

Armitage had commed ahead, alerting Cardinal to be present and guarding his rooms when he arrived on board the _Absolution_. So Cardinal arranged to have a squad of Stormtroopers meet Armitage at his shuttle, and he waited almost two hours for the alert of Armitage’s arrival in the hangar.

He waited longer before he heard the outer doors to the Hux suite open, and the tread of more than one person coming through the outer office. One set of steps was regular, precise - the carriage of the First Order. He couldn’t quite hear the other set. They were there, but it was a soft, rolling gait, a longer stride, that of someone who hadn’t been taught to march.

Cardinal stiffened. Armitage had brought someone with him, and if that someone wasn’t First Order, it was Kylo Ren. Cardinal felt sudden remorse for doubting Armitage’s motives. Cardinal normally met him in the hangar, and thought that his over-long wait in the Hux suite was a game. Of course it wasn’t. Of course Armitage was still trying to make an ally out of Kylo Ren. Cardinal wondered how much progress he’d made.

The door next to Cardinal slid open and Armitage strode through, not pausing or bothering to greet Cardinal. Cardinal tensed as the second body entered, steeling himself for attack or action. The steps paused, and from the edge of his vision Cardinal saw Kylo Ren turn to look at him.

“What’s he doing here?”

Armitage glanced over his shoulder, distracted, as he made his way into the smaller sleeping quarters. His voice was clear through the open door. “CD-0922? I told you, he’s my guard on board the _Absolution_.”

“Isn’t he one of your captains?”

“Of course.”

Kylo Ren paused, and when Armitage didn’t elaborate, he continued.

“Doesn’t he have anything better to do?”

Armitage was quiet a moment inside the bedroom. “He guards the suite. He’s done it since I was a boy. He did it for my father as well.”

Kylo Ren turned to regard the door Armitage had disappeared through, and was silent a moment, expression unreadable under his helmet, before continuing.

“Guards the suite.” He paused, drawing out the silence. “From what?”

“Danger. Does it matter? It’s his job.” Armitage emerged from the bedroom in his black robe, the heavier, more elaborate one with black embroidery and red trim. He was barefoot, but still wore his gloves. Neither of the two men reacted at all to Armitage being out of uniform. Armitage might have been affecting casualness - he likely was, Cardinal saw his hand go up to stroke the top of his hair - but he thought that Kylo Ren wouldn’t bother to feign ease.

Cardinal suddenly understood what was about to happen, and he exhaled sharply, just low enough for his helmet mic not to pick it up.

Armitage had come quite far with Kylo Ren. Far enough, apparently, to show either Kylo Ren, or Cardinal, or both, that they would do as they were told under any circumstance. Cardinal didn’t need the lesson, but knew that Armitage loved to give it whenever he could. Perhaps he’d worried that Cardinal had forgotten in his absence, or had gotten ideas after his promotion.

Or perhaps this wasn’t about himself at all. Perhaps he was just the most discreet tool with which to teach Kylo Ren the lesson.

Interesting, that Armitage was at least somewhat uneasy about the outcome of this evening, if he was allowing himself the comfort of his behavioral tic. Cardinal was certain. He and Kylo Ren would perform exactly as expected in this situation. What else could possibly happen? Cardinal walking out or interrupting? Kylo Ren declining? Of course not.

Kylo Ren turned back to face Cardinal, cocking his head. Cardinal wondered if he knew what was about to happen. Did he see it? Was he as certain as Cardinal of the outcome?

“What have you guarded the suite from, in all your years of loyal service?”

Cardinal turned his head to meet Kylo Ren’s blank, masked gaze. “No danger has ever made it to these doors since I've been here, sir. I’ve always kept a successful watch.”

“Successful.” Kylo Ren made a sound through his helmet that Cardinal interpreted as disbelief. It wasn’t a sound the Stormtroopers often made. The voice modulator in Kylo Ren’s helmet must be calibrated differently, or he didn't have the care to stifle it as they did.

Kylo Ren turned away, waving a hand. “You’re dismissed. Your vigilance isn’t necessary tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Behind the mask, Cardinal raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t foreseen this, but it was an acceptable interruption. He put a hand up to key open the door, but Armitage’s voice stopped him.

“CD-0922, you are to take orders from no one but myself. Is that clear?”

Cardinal turned back around to face Armitage. He took the opportunity to be insubordinate, because it was always allowed in these rooms, and it always gave Cardinal a certain amount of satisfaction to talk back.

“Is he not your Co-Commander?”

“He holds no rank in our organization.” Armitage’s gaze slid over to Kylo Ren. “He does not have clearance to dismiss you.”

“Yes.” Cardinal took up his position by the door, and he saw Kylo Ren shake his head.

“What’s he supposed to do here, Hux?”

Armitage crossed the room, laying his fingers below the Knight’s helmet and releasing it. Armitage’s face was its usual expressionless mask as he evaluated barefaced Kylo Ren, who was scowling and shaking out his hair.

“He’s always here, Kylo.”

“He doesn’t need to _watch_.”

Armitage stared at him, silent, expressionless, for several seconds. “But he will.”

The Knight’s eyes cut over to Cardinal, then back to Hux. He crossed his arms in defiance. “Just send him away.”

“I’m keeping him here,” Hux continued, as if the Knight hadn’t spoken, fingers coming up under his chin to stroke, then grip firmly with his gloved hand. “Because he will do his job. He will stand there and say nothing of this, because he is the best soldier in the First Order. He will form no opinion that we have not given him. If I tell him to join us, he will do it. If I tell him to pull out his blaster and execute you, he will do that as well.”

The Knight stepped back from Armitage’s hand, scowling. Armitage followed, moving his gloved grip to the back of the Knight’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair and pulling in a painful-looking way. Then Armitage smiled in the easygoing way he used on the younger recruits, the smile meant to put people at ease. The Knight’s scowl softened, looked less sure, then an answering grin broke out on his face.

“You’re-”

“I’m not.” Armitage pulled harder, and his eyes narrowed. The cuff of the robe slid down his forearm to his elbow, bearing the pale flesh and sparse red hair. “I am _not_  whatever you are about to suggest. I do not jest. I do not lie.” He released his grip, and the knight stumbled back a step. Armitage crossed his arms behind his back and continued.

“Either you both stay, or you may leave and I will continue the business at hand with him.”

Cardinal wondered, in some alternate version of this moment where Armitage was less certain of those around him, if Kylo Ren would leave and he’d find out whether Armitage would do as he promised. What would that be like? Cardinal would engage sexually with him, if only out of curiosity. It meant nothing to him, and he suspected it would mean nothing to Armitage save its worth against Kylo Ren.

But he knew here, now, that Kylo Ren would not leave.

The Knight’s eyes narrowed, and his hands balled to fists at his side, gloves creaking. “You wouldn’t.”

Cardinal didn’t need to wonder or imagine: Armitage absolutely would. Armitage’s eyes narrowed, and he did not answer. Kylo Ren shook his head, and put his palms out, feigning a casualness meant to get under Armitage’s skin.

“Okay, whatever you want, Hux. If you need an audience of Stormtroopers or whatever to get off, I won’t judge you.”

“Fine,” Armitage agreed tersely as he began stripping the gloves from his hands. He pointed with one bare finger, absently, not looking up. “Remove your tunic, outer clothes, and those filthy boots. Get on the couch.”

Kylo Ren rolled his eyes, then stepped forward, grabbing Armitage around the waist and throwing him over a shoulder. Even after the lifetime of training Cardinal had, the move was impressive. Not just as a feat of strength, but he would never have thought to master Armitage by humiliating him in such a way.

Armitage had just removed his second glove, and he dropped both to the ground now, his composure gone, his face red.

“Kylo. Stop this immediately.” He made it an order, as much of an order as he could give under the circumstances. His voice was strained, and his head was down somewhere around the Knight’s lower back. Cardinal noted that his hair stayed in place, impeccable as always.

“I don’t think so,” the Knight commented lightly, striding past the ice blue couch in the center of the room, making his way to the bedroom, the door still open. “Just relax, Hux. Unclench. Otherwise this will be harder for both of us.”

“Ren!” This time his voice filled the room, and he straightened his body, fighting his way to the floor. The Knight’s back was to Cardinal, so he couldn’t see the other’s expression, but he could read the tension in his shoulders. Cardinal’s hand moved to rest on his blaster, for all the good it would do.

The color was still up on Armitage’s face, but otherwise he was his usual semblance of impeccable order. He pointed imperiously with one hand to the couch. “We are not using the bedroom, we are using the same place we first came together.”

“What’s wrong with a bed?”

Armitage shook his head. “If you do not like the terms, Kylo, you can leave. Know that it will be some time before you enjoy the pleasure of my company if you choose to do so.”

The Knight shook his own head, turning around, and Cardinal saw his stormy expression. Cardinal’s hand remained on the blaster.

The Knight collapsed on the couch in a slouch, legs spread, arms crossed, face angry. “Is this good enough for you?”

Armitage walked over, soundless in his bare feet, his heavy black robe swirling around his calves. “I believe I told you to remove your boots and outer garments. Nothing but the undershirt and pants.”

They stared at each other for a long time, neither moving. Kylo Ren’s hands tensed and loosened against his arms, clearly objecting to Armitage’s order. But Cardinal knew there was no real struggle here.

Kylo Ren dropped his head and heaved a sigh, continuing the motion to bend down and pull off his boots. “I don’t know why you have to be so pushy. Why can’t we ever just have sex?”

Armitage moved to stand in front of the Knight, his back to Cardinal. “Because it’s you and I, Kylo. I have standards, and you meet them.”

He ran his fingers through the Knight’s hair, and Cardinal saw the tension in the Knight’s shoulders vanish as he leaned further forward and moved on to his second tattered boot.

“Socks too,” Armitage added, running his fingers down to Kylo Ren’s jaw and along his ear.

And Kylo Ren removed his socks as ordered, tossing them aside before standing. Armitage stepped back and crossed his arms to watch the other man undo his belt, which Kylo Ren did with furtive glances into Armitage’s face. When he had it off and dropped to the floor, Armitage stepped forward, cupping a hand around his cheek and putting another on his waist, and kissed him.

“Thank you, Kylo. You know I like it when you do things for me.”

Kylo stepped back, the look on his face saying everything of how much he wanted Armitage. Armitage had been right - he was so easy to read without his mask, so easy to see every thought on his face. Was Cardinal this easy to read? Were they all? Was it really so simple to see the desires of those who hadn't been trained to conceal them?

Kylo Ren yanked off his tunic, revealing a pair of suspenders and a short shirt that left his midriff and arms bare. A kind of despair and hopelessness crossed his face for just a moment, and he stepped forward and embraced Armitage again, kissing him passionately. Armitage tangled his fingers in his hair again and, for all appearances, returned the affection. Cardinal could not see his face.

Kylo Ren pulled back, blinking, the corner of his mouth quirking up, obviously pleased with himself. “That’s not the only thing you like about me, is it?”

Armitage tugged his hair lightly. “Of course not. I brought you here for other things.”

Kylo Ren stepped backwards and seated himself once again on the couch, pulling Armitage into his lap. Armitage knelt above his thighs, knees on the couch, the robe falling behind him and covering Kylo’s legs.  The bare, pale soles of his feet, visible on either side of the Knight's knees, stood out in sharp contrast to the black embroidered robe and the pale blue color of the couch.

“Other things,” Kylo Ren murmured quietly, his face obscured by the back of Armitage’s head. Cardinal saw one of the Knight’s hands come up, fingering the collar of Armitage’s robe, slipping it down his shoulder. His lips followed, down Armitage’s neck and arm. “What did you have in mind this time, General Hux?”

“Whatever you like, Kylo. You know I enjoy it when you have your way with me.” Both of Armitage’s hands had gone into the Knight’s hair, and he had buried his face in it, the pale skin of his neck and back arched and displayed for Cardinal. Cardinal still couldn’t see his expression, gauge his sincerity.

“Whatever I like,” Kylo repeated again in a flat voice, tensing and pushing Armitage away slightly. His dark gaze landed on Cardinal, then went back to Armitage’s face. “As long as it’s in front of your Trooper, on the couch.”

Armitage shrugged casually, putting a hand on Kylo Ren’s cheek, his other hand disappearing between them. “I have my rules. You know that. And you love indulging me.”

Kylo closed his eyes, frustrated, before his face showed something more complicated. He jumped slightly, likely when Armitage’s wandering hand found its target. “Do I? Maybe I only love it when you indulge me.”

Armitage’s arm was working, and Kylo leaned forward into his exposed shoulder, his face disappearing behind Armitage’s chest. Armitage tensed, and Kylo jumped, his mouth moving to suck a mark into Armitage’s neck before studying it, a lazy look on his face.

“Do you have anything in the pockets of that robe that might make me like this couch better?” Kylo Ren’s hand pushed the robe off Armitage’s other shoulder and lowered it to his mid-back, letting it rest in the crook of his elbows. The movement of Armitage’s arm was more obvious now, the ripple of the fabric faster. The robe had fallen to drape over one of his feet, the other still exposed against the cushions of the couch.

The Knight’s eyes darted to Cardinal, and he scowled, pulling back and plunging his hands into the folds of Armitage’s robe. He came back out with something that Cardinal did not see, and he heard small noises, crinkling and a popping.

“Always prepared. I haven’t caught you without since that first time.”

“Indeed. Things escalate. And you are much needier than I had anticipated.”

Kylo Ren’s eyes opened, looking at Cardinal again, staring straight into the darkness of his visor. Cardinal knew the other man couldn’t see his eyes, but he was certainly looking for them, and there was a mix of emotion on his face: anger, frustration, that hopelessness again.

Cardinal thought it would be a kindness to the Knight if he turned away, faced the wall, offered him the privacy that he obviously wanted. It was clear that he treasured the intimacy, and it was likely not a side of himself he’d shown to anyone but Armitage. Cardinal remembered Armitage’s gaze seeking his the last time, looking for answers in Cardinal’s helmet that weren’t there. Obviously he had learned the rules of these engagements since then.

But giving Kylo Ren privacy was something Cardinal was not willing to do. He would not disobey a direct order from Armitage. And as much as his eyes begged Cardinal for this one thing, this thing that was his that he wanted for himself, the impulse was... wrong. Part of the Order's conditioning was to remove desires for the personal, for privacy, for something apart from shared goals. The thing in Kylo Ren's eyes was something that neither he nor Armitage had inside them, nor should any of the best of the First Order.

And Cardinal saw more levels, more layers to the engagement, and wondered again at what Armitage was capable of. Again, even this twisted, private thing that he'd done to both Cardinal and Kylo Ren was, perhaps, correct in its way.  A lesson that needed to be learned.

Cardinal kept himself at attention, his helmet forward, facing the couple on the couch. After a few minutes, Kylo Ren tipped his forehead back into Armitage’s neck, shielding his expression. He shuddered slightly.

“Shh, Kylo, don’t be so eager. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready. I’m always ready, General. But I need to prepare you first.”

Armitage pushed himself up on his knees, the robe draped down his back still obscuring the intimacy of the encounter from Cardinal. Armitage moved his hands to Kylo’s shoulders, and Cardinal saw the Knight tense as he moved an arm. Armitage did not physically react to whatever Kylo Ren was doing, his body remaining precisely positioned in its crouch, his shoulders and back straight, his visible foot still draped over the side of the couch. But he did give the Knight verbal encouragement.

“Yes,” Armitage hissed. “You do this so well, Kylo. So good, and only for me.”

Kylo Ren’s head was behind Hux’s torso now, and Cardinal could make out the dark mess of his hair bobbing, moving back and forth. There were wet sounds, sucking and sliding. There were gasping and small noises, a groan that came from the Knight.

“That’s enough, Kylo, _your mouth_.” Armitage paused for a moment, Cardinal knew it as an attempt to collect himself - his voice was still steady and moderate, but he was obviously losing himself in the moment. His back had arched slightly, and his foot had shifted. “That mouth of yours is terrible. Much more of that and you know I won’t last.” He paused, and Cardinal could hear a slight strain in his voice, the edge that meant he was losing his composure. “Bind me now, hurry.”

Abruptly, Armitage’s arms wrenched behind his back, the sleeves of his robe still at his elbows, the cuffs falling low enough to obscure his hands. His forearms appeared to be bound together nearly elbow to elbow by what Cardinal assumed was Kylo Ren’s invisible Force.

Cardinal sucked in a silent breath. He’d never seen the magic in person before. It seemed like there should be more ceremony to it, that there should be chanting or lights, or that the Knight should look formidable, or that Cardinal should feel it from where he was.

But instead, Armitage knelt nearly naked above his lap, asking for a sexual favor.

The casual use of such awesome power, at a comment from Armitage in the middle of private intimacy, made Cardinal’s stomach wrench. Two of the most powerful men in the First Order, abusing each other and using one of the most formidable arts in the galaxy for such a thing. It seemed monstrously selfish.

Armitage threw his head back and hissed in pain, his foot digging itself into the edge of the couch cushion.

“Yes. So rough. Harder. Another finger. Now.”

Kylo Ren’s head moved to the side of Armitage’s torso, down to his belly, and Armitage grunted and jerked as Kylo Ren’s arm began to move differently.

“Exactly, yes, you know how I want it Kylo. You know me. You’re perfect, absolutely perfect in every way-” He cut himself off, but Cardinal was unsurprised to note that Armitage’s bedroom talk was given in precisely the same voice and cadence as he rattled off drilling instructions when observing cadets.

Kylo Ren pulled him down and kissed him, grunting into Armitage’s mouth. Armitage pulled back from the embrace abruptly, twisting in his lap as much as he could with his arms bound.

“Enough of that, you know better. Are you ready?” His voice had hardened, his tone sharp. Cardinal saw the Knight’s shoulders tighten and hunch.

“Yes,” the other answered sullenly, and Armitage leaned forward to bury his face in the Knight’s hair, just above his ear.

“Good. You know what to do next, yes? You know exactly what to do. How I like to be taken apart. How I like to see you hold me down.”

Armitage leaned forward and said something quietly enough in the Knight’s ear that Cardinal couldn’t hear it, but it made the Knight turn to him and give him a fierce kiss.

“You’re awful,” he murmured against Armitage’s lips.

“So are you. You’d please me so much more if you were like this more often. So eager to do what I like.”

The Knight leaned back to look at him, and Cardinal saw that the worshipful expression was back on his face. His eyes roamed up and down Armitage’s torso, and he shook his head, looking back into Armitage’s eyes, confused for a moment.

“Your bedroom talk has gotten so much better over the months.”

“I’m a fast learner, Kylo.” Armitage’s voice sharpened further. Cardinal could tell that this was a sore spot, that the Knight was picking at a weakness. He tensed, feeling slight sympathy for Armitage in this moment. The Knight’s expression suggested he was oblivious to this, and he continued, confused.

“But… you’re still… not very creative. It’s like you found the one thing I like and just repeat it.”

“You like it, correct?” Armitage bit out a reply, then continued. “You might guess by my lifestyle that we aren’t really romantics here, Kylo. If there’s something more you’d like to hear, tell me, and I will say it.”

Kylo shook his head, his expression softening further, looking sad. “No. I… know.”

He seemed to lose his words after that, and Armitage pulled at his arms, sighing and straightening his back and shoulders, obviously retreating from the intimacy back into his usual habits. Whatever impulsive thing he may have done or said, any hint at his personality that may have escaped in the moment, all of that was gone. Cardinal knew that whatever he spoke now would be calculated.

“Kylo. Please.” The reply was soft, corrective. The Knight gave him another one of his lost looks, nodded, and his his hands disappeared between them for another moment.

Armitage lowered himself back into the Knight’s lap. Kylo Ren let out a sound that was half moan and half grunt, throwing his head back. His hands went to Armitage’s waist, still hidden by the draping of the robe. Armitage began pumping himself forward and back, and Kylo Ren grunted and shifted, leaving his head back and his eyes closed.

After nearly two minutes of the silence broken only by the vocalizations of the Knight, his hand came up to Armitage’s neck, and Armitage arched backward roughly, Kylo Ren’s fingers around his throat and two of them in his mouth, holding his jaw open. Armitage’s hair stayed in place, and Cardinal could see the redness of his face as he bent back.  The pale foot arched, toes curling with whatever physical extremity he was now experiencing.

He didn’t appear to be breathing or making any noises whatsoever, and Cardinal’s hand tightened around his blaster. When would he intervene? Would Armitage object to an interruption now? Would Kylo Ren kill the General in the middle of intercourse?

Cardinal wasn’t sure. He’d wait until he was certain that Armitage was unconscious before he interrupted.

Armitage was held in place, and the Knight began shifting beneath him more frantically. His hand shifted from Armitage’s waist to between them, and Armitage shuddered and went limp.

Kylo Ren’s power disappeared from around his arms, and Armitage slumped forward, toward the Knight. Kylo Ren wrapped his arms around him, hands on his back atop the robe, and held him close. His red face reappeared at Armitage’s neck, eyes closed, expression extremely concentrated. Then, he shuddered and stilled, loosing a long closed-mouth moan.

After a few moments filled with nothing but the sound of both men catching their breath, Kylo Ren’s eyes opened. Unfocused at first, they immediately snapped to Cardinal, and he tensed, his expression shriveling from relaxed to displeasure.

He pushed Armitage forward, propping him up, looking into his face.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Armitage asked, his voice as regulated as always.

“Always,” the Knight admitted, voice soft.

Armitage tensed in his lap, and one of the Knight’s big hands came over his face. Then, Armitage went limp again, and the Knight pulled him forward, shifting underneath him and positioning him carefully.

He stood, Armitage held in front of him with one of the Knight's arms under his shoulders and the other arm under his knees. Armitage’s arms were draped over the Knight's shoulders, and his face had rolled forward into the Knight’s neck. Cardinal's gaze lingered on Armitage in Kylo Ren's arms, the way his robe fell open and exposed his nakedness, the flush that went from his face down his chest, the mess he’d made of himself, the way the robe draped half off his body and over Kylo Ren’s arms.

And Kylo Ren was still mostly clothed, barefoot and in pants, suspenders, and the strange half-shirt he wore under his tunic. His hair was gnarled and twisted, standing out from his head like a nightmare.

But his expression was nothing if not vulnerable. Kylo Ren was looking back at Cardinal once again, over Armitage in his arms. He was unhappy, unsure, wanting to say something. The muscles of his face twitched as he considered it, his eyes narrowing, looking alternately angry and defeated.

“Will you leave if I order you to do it now?”

Cardinal snapped to attention, his hand coming from his blaster. He considered declining. If it were Armitage, he might take the moment to be contrary. But there was no point, with Armitage unconscious and the Knight so vulnerable. Besides, if he declined, the Knight would likely just magic him unconscious again. He wondered if it was another sort of test.

“Yes, sir.”

“Doesn’t it go against his order?”

Cardinal turned his head fractionally, an excuse coming readily to him. “He is currently unable to give orders, and you are his Co-Commander. Your orders currently supersede his.”

Kylo Ren sighed, sounding annoyed. “Then go.”

Cardinal turned and left promptly, as ordered. He heard the door of the main bedroom close as he secured the door to the private suite.

Armitage would realize Cardinal was gone when he woke, would likely be angry about it. But he also wouldn’t bring it up. He would find other ways to punish Cardinal.

Cardinal wondered if Kylo Ren would realize it, or recognize Armitage's subtle touch when it happened.

 

* * *

**32 ABY…**

 

 

When they reached the sim chamber, Cardinal dismissed the showy Stormtrooper unit, and he led the two commanding officers and a pair of trailing Lieutenants inside the room. It was a huge cylindrical chamber, with multiple ringed levels of gray and black tech and gray and black uniforms interrupted only by the bright winking of dozens of screens and holoprojections. There were five levels of tech officers running simulations throughout the entire ship, the heart of their training program.  Every class was currently displayed in multiple views and replays, everything accessible with a command from Cardinal.

“The only simulations I’ve added since your last visit is the Hokal swarm simulation we’d generated from the recent takeover of Noora, and one from Gan-To from our intervention there, based on the unusual slugthrowers and the ammo that ate through plasteel.”

Armitage nodded. “Yes, that was a unique projectile, and we were testing that new shield unit against them. How are the scores?”

Cardinal knew that Armitage was well aware of the scores. “Slow to climb, especially among the older children. We’ve been drilling the graduating class in nothing but variations of that sim for weeks.”

They had made their way to a bank of monitors showing younger students running the simulation. “These are the recruits from Noora, who have the dexterity to dodge and know how to catch the slugs with their weapons. We’re letting them use their unique defenses for now since the armor is hindering their dexterity. We’re waiting for them to move more freely before we do more exclusive weapons training.”

Armitage stared at the monitor silently for several minutes, considering. “Perhaps there is no need.” He turned to another officer, an assistant that had traveled with them. “Lieutenant, can you make a note? Send a request to R&D to develop shielding for the weapons, or a material that can withstand this type of projectile.”

“It should also combat sulla, the venom from an Orgarian. They spit when they fight, and are popular mercenaries and guerilla soldiers. A few would eat up several units. The technique to effectively defend against them is similar to what these recruits are doing.”

Cardinal turned, surprised to hear Kylo Ren speak. He was even more surprised when he saw the briefest flash of expression across Armitage’s face before he turned from Ren back to the officer.

“That as well. Thank you, Ren.”

The three of them continued to watch the children in the simulator. Cardinal saw YA-5222 struggling, still not used to the large rifle that she’d been issued. He’d have to pull her out and recommend her for more basic blaster training.

On the other hand, YA-4377 and YA-0086 were adapting to their armor faster than the others. They’d be ready for a more advanced group soon, for separation from the group of Noora recruits. The sooner those recruits were split up, the better.

“YA-6262 isn’t going to make it.”

Cardinal glanced sidelong at Armitage without turning to him. “No,” he said slowly. “He’s not taking to the conditioning.”

Armitage glanced at Kylo Ren again before looking at the screens. “I’d thought so. The only one from that group, though.”

“Yes. The conditioning has gotten much better in recent years. We have a near-100% success rate now.”

Armitage made a sound of assent, and all three went silent again.

Cardinal let his mind wander and considered the flash of expression that Armitage had let show earlier. Most people would have missed it. Anyone who wasn’t Cardinal probably would have read it as contempt for Kylo Ren.

But Cardinal knew it. Armitage had been surprised and pleased by the contribution. He saved himself the embarrassment of admitting he hadn’t thought of something first by appearing displeased with any new idea. The more displeased he looked, the more likely he was to adapt it later. Brendol had been the same, and had turned the look on Armitage regularly.

Cardinal had wondered about Armitage and Kylo Ren. As time passed, it became clear that Armitage’s more permanent living quarters had shifted from the _Absolution_  to the _Finalizer_. It was also clear that Kylo Ren was not killing him. It was obvious to Cardinal, after their last meeting together, that Kylo Ren would likely never kill him.

He wondered if Armitage had gotten what he wanted.

Cardinal had confirmed his suspicions by using the officer gossip network that connected the programs at the two ships. Kylo Ren had mellowed suddenly, and had stopped abusing the officers and equipment for the most part. Kylo Ren’s training was considered tough but fair by the older troopers, who loved him. More than Phasma, he was told, though he wondered if his acquaintances among the officers were trying to spare his feelings, or if it was part of a presumed rivalry between the _Absolution_  and the _Finalizer_. Repairs to the _Finalizer_  had plummeted in the last year. It was said that General Hux and Kylo Ren worked seamlessly as a team, like two halves of a whole.

Armitage Hux didn’t let himself stand next to any man if he could help it. Cardinal thought he must have his hands full with Kylo Ren. He remembered the sight of Kylo Ren’s face and how utterly taken he had been by Armitage. Completely mesmerized. Cardinal wasn’t nearly the expert in such things that Armitage was, but as soon as Kylo Ren had removed his helmet that first time, Cardinal had known that Armitage would have him just as he wanted him.

And Armitage had later proved it, as if he valued Cardinal’s belief in his abilities. He’d had Cardinal watch as he proved that Kylo Ren, the most powerful and frightening member of the First Order, would do anything Armitage asked. It had been impressive, in its way. Perhaps a kind of conditioning in and of itself.

Cardinal wondered what expression the Knight wore under his helmet now, if he knew that Armitage’s contempt was as good as a congratulations. Did Kylo Ren watch the simulation today, or did he watch Armitage Hux?

He didn’t know if Armitage had the capacity to look at Kylo Ren the same way that Kylo Ren looked at him, but Cardinal didn't think so. Not after seeing that pleading look in the Knight's eyes, the thing that shouldn't be in the First Order. He wondered if the Knight of Ren knew that Armitage lacked that. Had Kylo Ren seen through Armitage’s manipulations the same way Cardinal had when he’d watched the two of them together? Perhaps Kylo Ren knew, and loved Armitage anyway.

He didn’t know what that was like, what it was to feel for another person like that. He had never found a partner among the troopers, though the legions that were stationed here for defense of the ship adored him, and many had offered to spend the night with him over the years. Cardinal simply had no interest in sexual relations, and felt none of the love that such couples seemed to share.

He considered that he had loved Brendol Hux, that the General had saved his life and given him everything he had. A purpose. A reason to live. All his training and skills. Cardinal also loved the Order, and the children he taught. He always felt immensely proud see them graduate to the _Finalizer_ , to see the future of the First Order so secure, and all the good they would do when they were ready to fight.

He did not love Armitage, or even like him, but they were undoubtedly connected. He and Armitage shared something that none of the other soldiers did, and it was not a bond that the First Order ever cultivated or encouraged.

Cardinal was bound to Armitage’s fate, for better or worse. He suspected his own fate would affect Armitage not at all. Did it matter? Not particularly. He served the Order, and knew that Armitage Hux acted in the Order’s best interest, always. The Order could go on without Cardinal, but he doubted very much it would get very far without Armitage.

And Armitage had grown so much over the years, grown more clever and capable. Since his promotion to General, he'd been easier with those around him, less suspicious, and the programs had improved drastically once he’d stopped being so spiteful. He’d matured a great deal once the specter of Brendol had left them.

Cardinal was startled out of his contemplations by unexpected praise.

“Good. This is very good.” Armitage turned to him, his face as inscrutable as any Stormtrooper mask. But Cardinal knew the compliment was genuine, as Armitage would never offer him any praise otherwise.

“I’m happy with how you’ve handled the program this year. I’m glad I can leave it in such capable, loyal hands. I have another project that’s taking my time from the training now. I can devote my full attention to it, knowing that you and Phasma have the troopers in such capable hands.”

“Thank you. Sir.”

“You’re unofficially part of the First Order leadership now, so you’ll be getting notifications about the High Command meetings. You’ll attend by yourself, and be given your place as the Paramount of the _Absolution_ , but you likely won’t be invited to speak.”

Cardinal was taken aback. This was a great honor, and he doubted even Brendol would have given him such a thing. He had an absurd impulse to ask Armitage to repeat himself, though the words were still ringing in his ears, unlikely as they were, and in Armitage’s voice.

He opened his mouth, then licked his lips and replied. “Of course, sir. As you command.”

Armitage nodded then gestured to his side, tossing another glance to Kylo Ren. “Shall we retire to the office to review the data and discuss the sims that Ren has been working on with Phasma that we wish to implement?”

Cardinal bristled at the mention of Phasma and the changes to his program. “Did you want my input with the sims?”

Armitage gave him a mild look, and began walking toward the conference room, Kylo Ren following him. “We were going to run them as-is, but we can hear what you have to say.” Armitage keyed the door open. “We also needed to discuss moving the graduation age earlier.”

Cardinal stopped in the doorway, stepping forward just in time to avoid getting caught as it shifted closed. He couldn’t make sense of that statement, though the words rang through his ears once again, still in Armitage’s voice, and far more likely this time.

“You want the children to move into the adult program sooner? Are they going full-fledged Trooper younger?” Perhaps they were getting ready to wage the war against the New Republic they had been preparing for all these years. The numbness that had begun creeping through him at the abrupt change abated somewhat. That would be good. That would be progress. They could help so many more planets once they deployed their full strength.

“Mmm. Something like that,” Armitage said vaguely, not turning around.

“We’ve expanded the size of the //Finalizer// to accommodate more of the program. We want the students in the training program with Phasma sooner.”

This, from Kylo Ren. Cardinal turned to look at him, the bottom dropping out of his world.

“They aren’t //children,// CD-0922. They’re soldiers. And we want them battling against the older students sooner. We want to challenge them, push them to the limit.”

This, from Armitage, who had sat down at the table and was leaning forward on his arms, staring intently at Cardinal, face giving nothing away.

Cardinal knew him anyway. He knew that Armitage had only boosted Cardinal’s hopes so that it hurt more when he eroded his life’s work.

Just like that, he remembered spiteful little Armitage Hux, whose father had shaved his head because he played with his hair too often, and who was easy to push around. He remembered all the praise he’d gotten from Brendol for beating him up, again and again and again.

He remembered those cold blue eyes below the shaved scalp, one swelling shut, blood running from his nose and lip. Even after being knocked down again and again for hours, he’d stood back up and wiped the blood disdainfully off his face with the back of his hand. All that loathing. All of it was still the same, nearly thirty years later.

Armitage Hux hadn’t changed a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux threatens to kick Kylo out and have sex with Cardinal instead. Cardinal speculates on that rather clinically for a moment. Skip a few paragraphs after Kylo complains that Cardinal doesn't need to watch to skip that. Alas, if voyeurism isn't your thing, you'll need to skip the whole sad flashback.
> 
> As always, I'm on Tumblr: [@vadianna](http://vadianna.tumblr.com).


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